mm  '•••mm 

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PICKETT'5 
CHARGE 


FRED 
EMERSON 
BROOKS 


mmm 


GIFT  OF 


FRED  EMERSON  BROOKS. 

Fred  Emerson  Brooks  was  content  to  be  a 
poet  of  the  people.  Possessed  of  gifts  which 
might  have  placed  him  higher  in  the  lists  of 
singers,  as  those  lists  are  compiled  by  the 
learned  men,  he  chose  to  write  simply  of  the 
everyday  things. 

There  are  many  measures  for  the  poet  but 
the  one  which  pleased  Fred  Emerson  Brooks 
was  the  guage  of  appreciation  of  his  fellow 
men.  He  did  not  aspire  to  a  wide  fame;  he 
hoped  to  touch  hearts.-  So  he  wrote  in  a  way 
to  be  understood  of  things  which  are  close  to 
the  average  man's  experience  and  when  he  died 
there  were  many  among  those  who  had  never 
seen  the  man  who  felt  they  had  lost  a  friend. 
In  that  was  the  triumph  of  the  art  of  the 
Berkeley  singer.  • 

In  serving  the  cause  of  letters  Mr.  Brooks 
also  served  California.  Possessed  of  a  com- 
manding presence  and  unusual  ability  on  the 
platform  he  was  a  familiar  figure  on  the 
Lyceum  and  Chautauqua  boards  where,  always, 
he  recited' his  poems  of  this  state.  Evidencing 
the  appeal  his  verse  made  to  the  public  various 
movements  have  been  started  to  have  him  ac- 
corded State  or  National  honors.  Beyond  any 
title  or  other  sign  of  recognition  which  could 
have  been  conferred  with  ceremony  is  the  re- 
ward this  California  poet  won  in  the  hearts  of 
thousands. 


PICKETT'S  CHARGE 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 


's  Charge 


anfc 


By   FRED    EMERSON    BROOKS 

Author    of   ''Old  Ace    and    Other    Poems" 


CHICAGO 

FORBES     &     COMPANY 
1915 


Copyright,  1902 
BY  FRED  EMERSON  BROOKS 


SECOND  EDITION. 


,  colonial  Prefer  Electrotyptd  and  Printed 
by  C',  H.  Simvmtis  ,     €p.;,  B6Bt>.n,  U.  S.  A. 


DEDICATED 
TO    MY    FRIEND 

i\  frank  Seaman 


CONTENTS 


Pickett's  Charge 13 

Hushaby  I  Close  You'  Eye ! 19 

Remember  the  Maine 21 

The  Kindergarten  Tot 25 

The  Whistling  Boy 28 

Grandma .  32 

Dot  Good  for  Nodings  Dog 34 

Hans' Little  Baby  . 37 

Do 't  Again  ! 41 

No! 43 

Josiah  and  Symanthy 46 

The  Big  Fish  and  the  Little  Fish      ....  50 

How  Hans  Took  Santiago .     .  52 

An  Old  Man's  Dream 57 

Old  Glory 61 

Irish  Charity 63 

On  t'  Other  Side  the  World 68 

Goin'  A-Fishin' 70 

I  Would  Not  Shoot 73 

For  a  Boy 76 

Mother  Knows  I  'm  Comin'  Home    ....  77 

An  Every-Day  Dolly 81 

ix 


Contents 


PAGE 


Buying  a  Doll   ...          83 

Rastus 87 

Baby's  Hand 91 

So  Little  Bill  Said .     .  93 

Just  Dropped  In                                   ....  96 

In  the  Rain 98 

The  Weavers 100 

Uncle  Sam  and  Johnny  Bull 103 

Hide-and-Seek 104 

The  Mocking-Bird 106 

The  Cow-Bell 108 

An  Old  Bible no 

The  Marble-Cutter's  Chat 1 1 1 

Lee  at  Appomattox 115 

Lee  to  the  Confederate  Flag 117 

The  Man  at  the  Forge 120 

I  Can  Lick  Any  Boy  in  the  Block     .     .     .     .  122 

Crazy  Phil 123 

The  Deacon's  Drive 128 

The  Frenchman  and  the  Dictionary  ....  133 

Dandy  Dewey 136 

The  Southern  Belle 139 

Stonewall  Jackson 141 

The  Frenchman's  Spider  and  the  Fly    .     .     .  145 

General  Hancock 147 

The  Dog  Sale 151 

The  Hobo 153 

Doll-Baby  Town 155 

Dan  Butterfield 158 

Little  Miss  Study  and  Little  Miss  Play      .     .  162 
x 


Contents 

PAGE 

The  Stuttering  Lover 163 

Two  Apples 164 

Arbor  Day 165 

Conductor  Sammy 167 

The  Dago 170 

Billy  Idon'know 172 

The  Girl  That  Winked  Her  Eye 174 

He  Wouldn't  Tell  His  Ma 176 

Doggie 's  Dot  Puppies 178 

Foreigners  on  Santa  Glaus 179 

The  Sparrow 182 

How  the  Mule  Was  Made 183 

Sunshine 185 

I  Love  Her  Just  Because  I  Do 186 

The  Gossips 187 

Old  Man  o'  the  Moon 189 

Old  Kentucky 192 

The  Drummer  Boy  of  the  Rappahannock  .     .  194 

De  Light  and  De  Satisfied 198 

Would  n't  You  ? 200 

The  Cowboys'  Concert .  201 

Uncle  Sam's  Family 204 

The  Soldier's  Oath 206 

The  Blue  and  the  Gray 207 


XI 


PICKETT'S   CHARGE   AND 
OTHER   POEMS 


PICKETT'S    CHARGE 

\T7HEN  Pickett  charged  at  Gettysburg, 

*  *     For  three  long  days,  with  carnage  fraught, 
Two  hundred  thousand  men  had  fought ; 
And  courage  could  not  gain  the  field, 
Where  stubborn  valor  would  not  yield. 
With  Meade  on  Cemetery  Hill, 
And  mighty  Lee  thundering  still 
Upon  the  ridge  a  mile  a\vay ; 
Four  hundred  guns  in  coiinterplay 
Their  deadly  thunderbolts  had  hurled  — 
The  cannon  duel  of  the  world  !  — 

When  Pickett  charged  at  Gettysburg. 

When  Pickett  charged  at  Gettysburg, 
Dread  war  had  never  known  such  need 
Of  some  o'ermastering,  valiant  deed ; 

13 


Pickett's  Charge 

And  never  yet  had  cause  so  large 

Hung  on  the  fate  of  one  brief  charge. 

To  break  the  centre,  but  a  chance ; 

With  Pickett  waiting  to  advance ; 

It  seemed  a  crime  to  bid  him  go, 

And  Longstreet  said  not  "  Yes  "  nor  "  No," 

But  silently  he  bowed  his  head. 

"  I  shall  go  forward  !  "  Pickett  said. 

Then  Pickett  charged  at  Gettysburg. 

Then  Pickett  charged  at  Gettysburg : 
Down  from  the  little  wooded  slope, 
A-step  with  doubt,  a-step  with  hope, 
And  nothing  but  the  tapping  drum 
To  time  their  tread,  still  on  they  come. 
Four  hundred  cannon  hush  their  thunder, 
While  cannoneers  gaze  on  in  wonder  ! 
Two  armies  watch,  with  stifled  breath, 
Full  eighteen  thousand  march  to  death, 
At  elbow-touch,  with  banners  furled, 
And  courage  to  defy  the  world, 

In  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg. 

'T  is  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg : 
None  but  tried  veterans  can  know 
How  fearful  't  is  to  charge  the  foe  ; 
But  these  are  soldiers  will  not  quail, 
Though  Death  and  Hell  stand  in  their  trail ! 
Flower  of  the  South  and  Longstreet's  pride, 
There 's  valor  in  their  very  stride  ! 


Pickett's  Charge 

Virginian  blood  runs  in  their  veins, 
And  each  his  ardor  scarce  restrains ; 
Proud  of  the  part  they  're  chosen  for : 
The  mighty  cyclone  of  the  war, 

In  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg. 

'T  is  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg : 
How  mortals  their  opinions  prize 
When  armies  march  to  sacrifice, 
And  souls  by  thousands  in  the  fight 
On  Battle's  smoky  wing  take  flight. 
Firm-paced  they  come,  in  solid  form 
The  dreadful  calm  before  the  storm. 
Those  silent  batteries  seem  to  say : 
"  We  're  waiting  for  you,  men  in  gray  !  " 
Each  anxious  gunner  knows  full  well 
Why  every  shot  of  his  must  tell 

On  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg. 

'T  is  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg : 
What  grander  tableau  can  there  be 
Than  rhythmic  swing  of  infantry 
At  shouldered  arms,  with  flashing  steel  ? 
As  Pickett  swings  to  left,  half-wheel, 
Those  monsters  instantly  outpour 
Their  flame  and  smoke  of  death  !  and  roar 
Their  fury  on  the  silent  air  — 
Starting  a  scene  of  wild  despair : 
Lee's  batteries  roaring :  "  Room  !  Make  room  !  ! " 
With  Meade's  replying  :  "  Doom  !     'T  is  doom 

To  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg  ! " 

15 


Pickett's  Charge 

'T  is  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg : 
Now  Hancock's  riflemen  begin 
To  pour  their  deadly  missiles  in. 
Can  standing  grain  defy  the  hail  ? 
Will  Pickett  stop  ?     Will  Pickett  fail  ? 
His  left  is  all  uncovered  through 
That  fateful  halt  of  Pettigrew  ! 
And  Wilcox  from  the  right  is  cleft 
By  Pickett's  half-wheel  to  the  left ! 
Brave  Stannard  rushes  'tween  the  walls, 
No  more  disastrous  thing  befalls 

Brave  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg : 

T  is  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg  : 
How  terrible  it  is  to  see 
Great  armies  making  history  : 
Long  lines  of  muskets  belching  flame ! 
No  need  of  gunners  taking  aim 
When  from  that  thunder-cloud  of  smoke 
The  lightning  kills  at  every  stroke ! 
If  there 's  a  place  resembling  hell, 
'T  is  where,  'mid  shot  and  bursting  shell, 
Stalks  Carnage,  arm  in  arm  with  Death, 
A  furnace  blast  in  every  breath, 

On  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg. 

'T  is  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg : 
Brave  leaders  fall  on  every  hand ! 
Unheard,  unheeded  all  command  ! 
Battered  in  front  and  torn  in  flank ; 
A  frenzied  mob  in  broken  rank  I 
16 


Pickett's  Charge 

They  come  like  demons  with  a  yell, 
And  fight  like  demons  all  pell-mell  I 
The  wounded  stop  not  till  they  fall ; 
The  living  never  stop  at  all  — 
Their  blood-bespattered  faces  say : 
"  'T  is  death  alone  stops  men  in  gray, 

With  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg !  " 

Stopped  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg 
Where  his  last  officer  fell  dead, 
The  dauntless,  peerless,  Armistead  ! 
Where  ebbed  the  tide  and  left  the  slain 
Like  wreckage  from  the  hurricane  — 
That  awful  spot  which  soldiers  call 
"  The  bloody  angle  of  the  wall," 
There  Pickett  stopped,  turned  back  again 
Alone,  with  just  a  thousand  men  ! 
And  not  another  shot  was  fired  — 
So  much  is  bravery  admired  ! 

Pickett  had  charged  at  Gettysburg. 

Brave  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg ! 
The  charge  of  England's  Light  Brigade 
Was  nothing  to  what  Pickett  made 
To  capture  Cemetery  Hill  — 
To-day  a  cemetery  still, 
With  flowers  in  the  rifle-pit, 
But  no  one  cares  to  capture  it. 
The  field  belongs  to  those  who  fell ; 
They  hold  it  without  shot  or  shell ! 
17 


Pickett's  Charge 

While  cattle  yonder  in  the  vale 
Are  grazing  on  the  very  trail 

Where  Pickett  charged  at  Gettysburg. 

Where  Pickett  charged  at  Gettysburg, 
In  after-years  survivors  came 
To  tramp  once  more  that  field  of  fame ; 
And  Mrs.  Pickett  led  the  Gray, 
Just  where  her  husband  did  that  day. 
The  Blue  were  waiting  at  the  wall, 
The  Gray  leaped  over,  heart  and  all ! 
Where  man  had  failed  with  sword  and  gun, 
A  woman's  tender  smile  had  won: 
The  Gray  had  captured  now  the  Blue, 
What  mortal  valor  could  not  do 

When  Pickett  charged  at  Gettysburg. 


18 


HUSHABY!   CLOSE  YOU'  EYE! 

TV/TAMMY'S  cullud  baby  sweet! 
•*•*-*»   Hushaby !  Close  you'  eye  ! 
Kiss  you'  ban's  an'  kiss  you'  feet ! 

Hushaby !  Close  you'  eye  ! 
Niggahs  fat  an'  white  folks  skinny ; 
Angels  roun'  in  ole  Virginny, 
Watchin'  mammy's  piccaninny. 

Hushaby !  Close  you'  eye  ! 

Up  an?  down  on  mammy's  knee  you  teetah, 

A-cooin'  in  you'  precious  baby  way, 
You'  mammy  keepin'  time  unto  de  meetah, 

While  thoo  de  doo'  she  heahs  de  banjo  fiay. 
You  needn'  min'  dat  nasty  buzzin'  skeetah, 

You'  mammy  gwine  ter  bresh  away  dat  fly  ; 
Dey  bites  de  baby  kaze  dey  know  he 's  sweetah. 

Hushaby  I  Close  you'  eye  ! 

Kinky  haih  an'  shiny  face ; 

Hushaby  !  Close  you'  eye ! 
No  white  baby  take  you'  place ; 

Hushaby  !'  Close  you'  eye ! 
Mammy 's  glad  you  is  a  niggah, 
Would  n't  change  you'  blessed  figgah, 
'Cept  ter  have  you  grow  up  biggah. 

Hushaby  !  Close  you'  eye  ! 

19 


Hushaby  !  Close  You'  Eye ! 

You  was  bo'n  down  in  de  South, 

Hushaby  !  Close  you'  eye ! 
Wiv  dat  watermillion  mouth ; 

Hushaby  !  Close  you'  eye  ! 
Possum  tink  it  drefful  funny 
You  can't  eat  him  ;  byme-by  sonny, 
Git  you'  possum  teef,  ma  honey. 

Hushaby  !  Close  you'  eye ! 

You  done  keep  you'  black  eye  shet, 

Hushaby !  Close  you'  eye  ! 
Else  you  fin'  out  what  you  get ; 

'  Hushaby  !  Close  you'  eye  ! 
What  you  want,  you  blessed  sinnah  ? 
Had  you'  breakfas',  suppah,  dinnah ; 
Want  too  much  fo'  young  beginnah. 

Hushaby  1  Close  you'  eye  1 


20 


REMEMBER   THE   MAINE 

HP  HE  battleship  Maine  is  afloat  on  the  sea  — 
A  huge  white  phantom  of  destiny  ! 

Will  she  breast  the  storm  as  well  ? 
The  storm  of  war  and  the  storm  of  the  deep ; 
The  storm  that  may  come,  with  the  sailor  asleep, 

From  the  dynamite  diving-bell  ? 
To  the  God  of  the  sea  and  the  God  of  the  foam 
The  sailor-boy  prays  for  his  loves  at  home :  — 
u  Remember  all  ships  on  the  ocean  wave ; 
Remember  the  tars  and  the  gunners  brave 

In  the  war's  fierce  hurricane ; 
Remember  the  sailors  wherever  they  are, 
At  sea,  or  at  rest  in  the  harbor  bar, 

O  God,  remember  the  Maine  ! " 

As  the  guest  of  peace  in  a  tropical  bay 
The  flagship  Maine  at  her  anchor  lay, 

With  a  tropical  night  begun  : 
A  damnable  plot,  by  infamy  planned, 
The  cowardly  touch  of  a  villanous'hand, 

And  a  horrible  deed  is  done : 
A  rumble,  a  roar !  Have  the  fiends  of  hell 
Exploded  the  world  like  a  bursting  shell  ? 
They  have  wrecked  the  ship,   and  the  blast   has 

blown 
The  sleeping  tars  to  the  great  unknown  ! 


Remember  the  Maine 

Two  hundred  and  sixty  slain  ! 
The  sailor  has  followed  hard  after  his  prayer, 
But  Sigsbee  and  fighting  Wainwright  swear 

On  their  lives  to  remember  the  Maine ! 


A  horrible  night  brings  a  ghastly  day ; 
While  the  wreck  and  the  floating  corpses  say 

To  the  Spanish  ships  hard  by :  — 
"When  your  battered  squadrons  shall  writhe  and 

burn 
Like  the  shattered  Maine,  you  shall  come  to  learn 

How  the  dead  can  make  reply  ! " 
See  the  vultures  perch  on  the  twisted  steel, 
Or,  watching  the  corpses,  greedily  wheel ; 
But  far  above,  in  the  clear  blue  sky, 
A  soaring  eagle,  with  bloodshot  eye, 

Is  watching  the  vultures  of  Spain  ! 
While  behind  the  wreck,  and  each  pale,  dead  face, 
Is  the  might  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race, 

With  the  power  to  remember  the  Maine  ! 

When  Dewey  stole  into  Manila  Bay, 
Ere  the  dawn  of  the  first  retribution  day, 

He  was  facing  a  twofold  doubt :  — 
'T  will  be  war  when  the  forts  and  fleets  begin  ! 
But  the  channel  is  mined,  will  he  ever  get  in  ? 

Once  in,  will  he  ever  get  out  ? 
With  a  hooded  lamp  as  a  stern  guide-light, 
Like  a  torch  of  death  for  the  dying  night, 
22 


Remember  the  Maine 

Those  darkened  hulls  up  the  harbor  steal, 
With  a  trail  of  foam,  where  the  pitiless  keel 

Has  written  the  doom  of  Spain ! 
Soon  those  guns   shall   be  roaring,  from  jaws  of 

death, 
What  each  gunner  is  whispering  under  his  breath  :  — 

"  Remember !  remember  the  Maine  I " 

While  the  forts  are  belching  their  terrible  bombs, 
The  Philistines'  challenging  flag-ship  comes, 

Like  the  great  Goliath  of  old ! 
But  she  turns,  for  a  sling-shot  smashes  her  prow, 
While  another  has  ripped  her  from  stern  to  bow, 

With  the  flames  bursting  up  from  her  hold  1 
Her  battered  companions  are  all  on  fire, 
To  sink  in  the  blaze  of  their  funeral  pyre  ! 
The  smoke  of  the  battle  made  heaven  to  frown ; 
While  the  battle  god,  hurling  his  meteors  down, 

Shattered  the  war-dogs  of  Spain ! 
But  the  signal  to  Admiral  Dewey  ran  :  — 
No  harm  hath  fallen  to  ship  or  man 

Of  those  who  remember  the  Maine ! 

Outside  Santiago  de  Cuba  there  lay, 
On  the  morn  of  the  next  retribution  day, 

The  squadrons  of  Sampson  and  Schley  ! 
Who  makes  the  next  move  on  the  chess  board  of 

fate? 
From  the  funnel  smoke  choking  the  harbor  gate 

Cervera  now  thunders,  "  'T  is  I." 

23 


Remember  the  Maine 

No  fighters  so  eager  as  fighters  of  steel ; 

Each  blockader  now  seeming  to  leap  from  her  keel ; 

Oh,  that  long  shot,  that  strong  shot,  has  shattered 

a  ship ! 
They  're  flying !  They  're  dying  !  Let  none  of  them 

slip! 

Chase  Colon,  that  fleetwing  of  Spain ! 
Speed,     Oregon !    Brooklyn !    She 's     panting    for 

breath  ! 
Oh,  that  shell  shot  was  well  shot  —  't  will  burn  her 

to  death  ! 
Leave  her  time  to  remember  the  Maine ! 

Schley  signals  to  Wainwright :   "  Keep  out  of  the 

way ! " 
But  the   man  on  the  wee  little  Gloucester  says : 

"  Nay, 

I  '11  close  in  !  "  At  the  Furor  he  rushed 
With  a  fury  that  drove  those  torpedo-boats  dread 
On  the  battle-strewn  rocks,  where  the  surf  was  made 

red 

And  the  bones  of  the  Pluton  were  crushed ! 
The  avenging  Anglo-Saxon  once  more 
Hath  driven  a  Spanish  Armada  on  shore. 
Our  fleet  is  unharmed !     The  Almighty  had  willed 
Two  great  naval  battles  and  nobody  killed 
But  those  who  were  fighting  for  Spain  ! 
While  the  banner  that  never  has  known  defeat 
Is  still  floating  o'er  the  victorious  fleet 
As  it  floated  above  the  Maine ! 
24 


THE   KINDERGARTEN   TOT 

T  'S  only  just  a  little  tot, 

-*•   An'  all  the  sense  I  has  I  got 

At  kindergarten  with  a  lot 

O'  little  tads  like  me. 
The  teacher  stands  us  in  a  row 
An'  makes  our  arms  go  to  an'  fro  — 
That 's  how  the  cale'thenics  go  — 

With  "  one,  an'  two,  an'  three  !  " 

She  sings  us  such  a  funny  tune, 
About  the  bugs  that  come  in  June  ; 
An'  tells  us  all  about  the  moon ; 

An'  what  we  'd  do  without  it ; 
Just  how  the  moon  can  shine  so  bright ; 
Is  cheaper  than  electric  light ; 
An'  keeps  on  workin'  every  night 

An'  makes  no  fuss  about  it. 

She  says  the  world  is  big  an'  round ; 
An'  some  is  water,  some  is  ground ; 
An'  some  has  never  yet  been  found 

Escept  by  polar  bears  ! 
One  half  the  world  's  a  hemisphere 
An'  't  other  half  is  —  well  —  Oh,  dear  ! 
Guess  I  forgot  it  comin'  here  ; 

But  then,  nobody  cares. 

25 


The  Kindergarten  Tot 

The  world  is  made  o'  colored  maps, 
Just  so 's  to  puzzle  little  chaps ; 
But  down  inside  it 's  full  o'  scraps 

An'  fires  they  tell  about ! 
I  heard  the  teacher  once  confess :  — 
The  world  was  full  o'  wickedness ! 
An'  that 's  what  makes  earthquakes  I  guess : 

The  badness  comin'  out. 

The  world  turns  round  most  every  day ! 
Guess  that  is  why  the  hens  don't  lay 
Their  eggs  at  night  for  fear  'at  they 

Would  all  fall  out  the  nest ; 
'Cause  then  the  world  is  upside  down, 
An'  we  'd   have  nothin'  in  the  town 
But  grocer's  eggs,  an'  their  renown 

Is  bad  enough  at  best. 

One  day  a  handsome  man  came  in, 

Who  was  n't  either  kith  or  kin  ; 

For  teacher  blushed  down  to  her  chin 

When  he  sat  down  beside  'er ; 
His  uniform  was  brownish  stuff  ; 
Had  leggins  an'  a  yellow  cuff ; 
She  could  n't  look  at  him  enough ; 

An'  called  him  her  "  Rough  Rider." 

She  bade  us  all  go  out  an'  play  ; 
But  I  stayed  in  an'  heard  her  say :  — 
"  They  did  n't  shoot  your  arms  away 
When  you  were  in  the  South  ! " 
26 


The  Kindergarten  Tot 

He  whispered  in  the  teacher's  ear 
The  longest  while  an'  then,  for  fear 
Her  telephone  was  out  o'  gear, 
He  whispered  in  her  mouth  ! 

He  put  his  arms,  I  must  confess, 
Around  her  shoulders,  more  or  less ; 
They  call  it  "  Shoulder  Arms,"  I  guesss 

When  they  have  got  a  gun. 
Of  course  she  took  it  very  cool ; 
For  teachers  always,  in  the  school, 
Keep  harpin'  on  the  Golden  Rule : 

To  do  as  you  'd  be  done. 

He  saved  the  country  in  the  strife  ; 
An'  once  again  he  'd  risk  his  life, 
By  takin'  to  himself  a  wife 

An'  save  the  pretty  creature. 
It  seemed  to  me  so  very  plain  — 
In  spite  of  fever  an'  the  rain  — 
That  while  "  Rememberin'  the  Maine  " 

He  'd  not  forgot  the  teacher. 


THE   WHISTLING   BOY 

TT7HAT   music   like   the  whistle  of  a  well-con- 
tented boy,  - 

That  rhythmic  exhalation  of  an  ever-present  joy  ? 

Though   the  fragmentary  cadence  of  a  plain,  un- 
tutored art, 

'T  is  the  melody  of  childhood,  't  is  a  psalm  from  out 
the  heart. 

You  will  never  find   a  criminal  behind  an  honest 
smile  ; 

And  the  boy  ne'er  grows  a  villain  who  keeps  whis- 
tling all  the  while,  — 

Though  he  whistle  out  of  tune. 

What  cares  he  for  fickle  fortune,  — -  what  the  fashion 

may  bestow  ? 
In  his  little  barefoot  kingdom  royalty  in  rags  may 

go- 
With  an  apple  in  his   pocket  and  another  in   his 

mouth, 
Cares  not  how  the  wind  is  blowing,  whether  north 

or  whether  south ; 
For  he  has  no  crops  a-growing,  has  no  ships  upon 

the  sea; 
And  he  keeps  right  on  a-whistling,  whatever  the  tune 

may  be,  — 

For  he  whistles  out  of  tune. 
28 


The  Whistling  Boy 

*T  is  the  early  smile  of  Summer  creeping  o'er  the 

face  of  June, 
Even  though  this  crude  musician  many  times  is  off 

the  tune, 
Till  it  bears  the  same  resemblance  to  the  melody 

that 's  meant, 
That  his  garments  do  to  trousers  little  matter  how 

they  're  rent. 
When  he 's  very  patriotic  then  his  tune  is  sure  to 

be  — 
Although  a  bit  rebellious  —  "  My  Country,  'T  is  of 

Thee  ! " 

Which  he  whistles  out  of  tune  : 
[America.] 


Such  a  vision  of  good  nature  in  his  cheery,  smiling 
face; 

Better  clothes  would  check  his  freedom,  rob  him  of 
his  rustic  grace ; 

So  he  feels  a  trifle  awkward  in  his  brand-new  Sun- 
day clothes, 

While  repeating  to  his  teacher  all  the  Scripture  that 
he  knows. 

Out  of  Sunday  school  he  rushes,  takes  his  shoes  off 
on  the  sly ; 

Says  :  "  The  angels  all  go  barefoot  in  the  sweeter  by 
and  by !  " 

Which  he  whistles  out  of  tune : 
[Sweet  By  and  By.} 
29 


The  Whistling  Boy 

Sometimes  whistling  for  his  playmate;  sometimes 

whistling  for  his  dog, 
On   the  quiet,  in  the  schoolhouse,  to  perplex  the 

pedagogue ; 
Sometimes  whistling  up  his  courage ;  often  whistling 

just  because. 
In  the  South  he  whistles  "  Dixie  "  o'er  and  o'er, 

without  a  pause, 
Till  he 's  out  of  breath  completely,  when  it  seems  to 

be,  perchance, 
But  a  knickerbocker  whistle,  since  it  comes  in  little 

pants,  — 

For  he  whistles  out  of  tune : 
[Dixie.] 


Should  he  hail  from  old  New  England  you  may 

safely  bet  your  life 
He  can  whittle  out  a  whistle  with  his  broken-bladed 

knife. 
He  will  play  his  cornstalk  fiddle  and  his  dog  will 

never  fail 
To    show    appreciation,    beating    tempo   with    his 

tail; 
Then  he  whistles  "  Yankee  Doodle  "  like  the  tunes 

you  often  hear 
On  the  old  farmhouse  piano  when  the  sister  plays 

by  ear,  — 

For  he  whistles  out  of  tune  : 
[Yankee  Doodle.] 

3° 


The  Whistling  Boy 

There  is  many  a  weeping  mother  longing,  morning, 
night,  and  noon, 

For  her  boy  to  come  back  whistling  just  the  frag- 
ment of  a  tune ; 

But  he  's  yonder  entertaining  all  the  angels  unaware 

With  a  melody  so  human  they  are  bound  to  keep 
him  there ; 

For  of  all  that  heavenly  music  nothing  sounds  to 
them  so  sweet 

As  that  cheery,  boyish  whistle  and  the  patter  of  his 
feet,  — 

For  he  whistles  all  in  tune : 
[Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee.] 


GRANDMA 

T   GOT  tired  of  counting,  grandma,  just  how  many 

times  you  cried ; 
Did  n't  think  you  'd  be  so  sorry  just  because  dear 

grandpa  died ; 
And  so  many  times,  dear  grandma,  I  refused  to  go 

and  play ; 
For  you  seemed  to  be  so  lonesome,  when  the  tears 

got  in  the  way. 

And  I  said  :  —  when  I  got  older  I  'd  be  sure  to  com- 
fort you 
For  the  love  you  always  bore  me,  which  was  greater 

than  I  knew. 
There  is  nothing  quite  so  tender  that  our  childhood 

seems  to  know 
As  the  boundless  love  that  grandma 's  ever  ready  to 

bestow. 

If  anybody  scolded  or  gave  punishment  severe, 

It  was  consolation,  grandma,  when  you  kissed  away 

the  tear. 
When  my  little  boat,  out  sailing,  struck  a  rough  and 

stormy  sea, 
There  was  always  open  harbor  in  my  grandma's 

arms  for  me. 

2* 


Grandma 

A  boy  forgets  his  lessons  and  sometimes  forgets 
his  prayers, 

But  he  can't  forget  his  grandma  in  his  little  world- 
affairs, 

And  as  long  as  he  remembers  how  to  whistle  or  to 
swim, 

His  memory  will  revel  in  his  grandma's  love  for 
him. 

Is  there  any  place  of  refuge  for  a  tired  out  little 

chap,  — 
Any  place  to  take  his  troubles  like  his  dear  old 

grandma's  lap  ? 
Little  matter  who  may  grumble,  little  matter  who 

may  chide, 
A  boy  soon  gets  the  notion  grandma 's  always  on  his 

side: 
There  is  never  thought  of  censure  coming  out  of 

grandma's  heart,  — 
Though  the  world  should  turn  against  him,  she  is 

bound  to  take  his  part. 
All  his  childhood  seems  revolving  close  around  that 

rocking-chair, 
And  love's  halo  seems  to  glisten  in  the  silver  of  her 

hair. 


33 


DOT  GOOD   FOR  NODINGS   DOG 


vant  to  buy  my  dog  ?     Ah,  veil, 
Dere  vas  n't  much  of  him  to  sell. 
His  eye  vas  broke,  his  leg  vas  out, 
Mid  nodings  else  to  brag  about  ; 
Und  ven  you  ask  his  pedigree, 
Dot  make  der  laugh  come  out  o'  me  — 
It  vas  a  madder,  I  be  blamed, 
Aboud  der  vich  he  vas  ashamed. 
His  breed  vas  n't  in  der  Catalogue, 
He  vas  a  good  for  nodings  dog. 

It  vas  a  day  I  don't  forgot, 

Mit  rain  und  sleet  und  dings  like  dot, 

Dis  homely  dog  he  corned  along 

Und  sing  me  such  a  hungry  song 

I  said  :  "  Come  in  und  take  a  seat 

Und  have  some  scraps  und  tings  to  eat  !  " 

I  smile  mit  him,  he  smile  mit  me, 

Und  look  like  he  vas  glad  to  be, 

Although  not  in  der  Catalogue, 

But  yust  a  good  for  nodings  dog. 

Each  time  I  come  around,  you  bet 
He  vag  dot  tail  already  yet  ; 
Und  show  me  plain  from  either  end, 
He  always  vant  to  be  my  friend. 

34 


Dot  Good  for  Nodings  Dog 

No  madder  I  say  yes  !  or  no ! 
Where'er  I  gone  he  bound  to  go. 
Und  ven  he  lost  me,  runs  around 
Und  smells  me  out  upon  der  ground, 
Den  yumps  yust  like  he  vas  a  frog  — 
Und  not  a  good  for  nodings  dog. 

My  Meenie  vas  a  leedle  tot, 
Yust  big  enough  to  be  like  dot ; 
Und  run  about  und  have  some  play 
Yust  mit  der  dog,  until  von  day 
I  call  her,  und  she  vas  n't  dere ; 
I  couldn't  find  her  any vere ;  — 
"  Dot  dog  gone  off,"  my  vife,  she  say, 
"  Und  lead  dot  leedle  girl  avay  :  — 
He  vas  a  good  for  nodings  dog, 
Und  vas  n't  vorth  der  Catalogue  1 " 

My  leedle  Meenie  lost !  Mine  Got ! 
I  never  tink  I  cry  like  dot ! 
But  ven  I  found  dot  leedle  pet, 
I  cry  me  more  as  effer  yet :  — 
Dot 's  funny,  ven  a  man  feels  glad 
He  cries,  yust  like  ven  he  feels  bad ; 
Der  tears  vas  yust  der  same  ;  oh,  my, 
But  vat  a  difference  in  der  cry ! 
Dere  Meenie  sat  upon  der  log 
Und  pet  dot  good  for  nodings  dog. 

Und  ven  my  senses  all  got  clear, 

I  ask  me  :  "  Vot  's  der  matter  here  ?  " 

35 


Dot  Good  for  Nodings  Dog 

Und  looking  vere  my  Meenie  said, 
Dere  lay  a  great  big  vildcat  dead ! 
"  Dot  dog  he  killed  him,"  said  my  vife, 
"  Und  save  dot  leedle  Meenie's  life  !  " 
I  never  saw  her  eyes  more  vet, 
Und  vile  I  hug  dot  leedle  pet 
She  hug  dot  good  for  nodings  dog, 
Vot  vas  n't  vorth  der  Catalogue  ! 

You  vant  to  buy  dot  dog  ?     Ah,  veil, 
Nobody 's  here  who  vants  to  sell. 
My  vife  she  say,  "  You  could  n't  buy 
Von  look  of  kindness  oud  his  eye  ! " 
Und  as  for  me  —  dere  's  not  for  sale, 
Not  e'en  der  vaggin'  of  his  tail ! 
Und  Meenie  told  you  plendy  quick, 
"  In  all  dis  vorld  you  got  your  pick 
Of  dose  vot  's  in  der  Catalogue, 
But  not  dot  good  for  nodings  dog." 


HANS'   LITTLE   BABY 

T  7  ON  day  I  vas  found  me  a  baby, 

*        So  small  he  can't  sit  in  my  lap ; 
You  don't  believing  dot  story 

Und  say  I  vas  talk  in  my  cap : 
I  beared  me  my  door-bell  a-ringin'. 

Den  somebody  runs  me  avay 
Und  leave  me  dot  great  bushel  basket 

In  vich  a  nice  baby  vas  lay. 

Vedder  he  vas  Scotch  or  Spanish, 

Or  French,  it  been  all  der  same ; 
I  love  me  dot  leedle  baby 

Und  give  him  dot  German  name ; 
But  I  tink  it  vas  awful  funny 

Und  I  laugh  me  ever  so  much : 
Suppose  he  vas  born  of  Irish 

Und  I  been  making  him  Dutch. 

I  vas  only  a  poor  shoemaker, 

Und  keep  me  pachelor's  hall, 
But  how  to  feed  me  dot  baby 

Vas  bodder  me  more  as  all ; 
So  I  ask  me  of  der  butcher 

Und  of  der  grocery  man, 
Who  sold  me  dot  milk  condences 

Vich  I  feed  him  out  of  der  can. 

37 


Hans'  Little  Baby 

I  buy  him  plenty  of  dresses 

From  every  store  in  der  town ; 
But  ven  I  dress  me  dot  baby 

I  got  him  in  upside  down. 
Dot  make  me  so  much  confusions 

Ven  der  baby  vas  wrong  side  oud ; 
So  I  hires  me  a  negro  mammy 

Vat  knows  somedings  more  aboud. 

So  black  like  a  silhouette  shadow 

She  alvays  must  carry  a  light ; 
Und  she  vas  so  cross-eyed  der  baby 

Could  never  got  out  of  her  sight. 
She  laugh  ven  I  buyed  him  trousers 

Und  tings  vat  he  could  n't  use, 
So  I  give  her  to  bossing  der  baby 

Und  keep  on  a-mending  der  shoes. 

I  love  me  so  much  of  dot  baby, 

Yust  like  he  vas  born  by  me ; 
Und  vile  I  vas  teach  him  der  talking 

He  sittin'  across  my  knee, 
His  arms  on  my  neck  vas  clingin' 

Yust  like  der  oak  und  der  vine ; 
Und  I  vas  been  all  his  relation 

Und  he  vas  been  all  of  mine. 

Und  ven  he  got  bigger  und  goin' 
Avay  to  der  school  over  there, 

I  never  could  tink  me  of  nodings 
But  gaze  on  his  empty  chair ; 

38 


Hans'  Little  Baby 

But  ven  he  vas  read  me  der  lessons 
It  make  me  so  happy  to  cry, 

Because  he  vas  readin'  und  writin* 
Und  talking  much  better  as  I. 

But  ven  he  vas  growin'  so  handsome, 

Und  yust  about  six  years  old, 
Mit  cheeks  like  der  blushing  of  roses 

Und  hair  like  der  tassels  of  gold, 
A  rich  man  vas  come  in  his  carriage 

Und  prove  vat  I  could  not  deny  — 
Vich  breakin'  my  heart  all  in  pieces  — 

Dot  he  vas  der  father,  not  I ! 

He  told  me  dot  boy  had  been  stolen ; 

Und  all  my  expenses  he  pay ; 
No  matter  how  much  I  been  askin' 

He  double  vatever  I  say ! 
I  ask  —  for  vat  money  he  sell  him  ; 

"  For  nodings  !  "  he  say  mit  surprise. 
Den  I  told  him  dot  all  my  expenses 

Vas  nodings  und  nodings  likewise ! 

He  place  in  der  bank  many  thousands 

Vich  he  say  vas  for  me  to  enjoy ; 
At  first  I  vas  mad  !  —  den  I  t'inkin'  : 

I  keep  it  und  give  to  dot  boy. 
Und  now  ven  he  ride  in  his  carriage 

He  come  to  my  shop  every  day  : 
Dot  tear  vas  der  joy  vat  I  feelin'  — 

He  been  here  und  yust  gone  avay. 

39 


Hans'  Little  Baby 

Dot  boy  vas  got  him  two  fathers ; 

Vile  von  of  dem  got  all  der  gold, 
Dot  udder  von  got  all  der  lovin', 

For  dis  unto  me  he  yust  told  — 
Vile  his  arms  on  my  neck  vas  clinghV 

Yust  like  der  oak  und  der  vine  — 
I  still  vas  been  all  his  relation 

Und  he  vas  been  all  of  mine. 


40 


DOT   AGAIN! 

/t    LITTLE  tot  on  papa's  knee  — 
**•     As  sweet  as  any  child  can  be ; 
And  while  he  trots  her  up  and  down 
It  shakes  her  pretty  golden  crown ; 
And  laughter  writes  upon  her  face 
The  joy  she  feels  to  ride  the  race. 
The  horse  will  shy  and  run  away, 
But  when  he  stops  you  hear  her  say, 
In  such  a  sweet  enticing  way : 

"  Do  't  again  ! 

Do  't  again  !  " 

She  's  grown  a  pretty  little  girl, 

With  just  a  little  longer  curl. 

How  gracefully  she  rides  the  swing, 

So  like  a  cherub  on  the  wing. 

A  neighbor  lad  with  prowess  rare 

Is  motive  power  with  strength  to  spare ; 

He  runs  beneath  to  push  her  high ; 

Meanwhile  he  "  lets  the  old  cat  die," 

To  hear  with  pride  her  pleading  cry : 

"  Do  't  again  ! 

Do  't  again  ! " 

She  's  older  now  and  grown  so  fair 
Small  wonder  people  turn  and  stare ; 


Do  't  Again 

But  one  alone  her  heart  can  thrill ; 
As  taught  in  youth,  she  's  sitting  still 
Upon  the  knee,  but  you  descry, 
'T  is  not  her  father's,  by  the  by. 
A  sweeter  kiss,  lip  never  bore ; 
He  asks  but  one,  and  takes  a  score ; 
She  sighing  says,  as  learned  of  yore : 

"  Do  't  again  ! 

Do  't  again  1 " 


NO! 

A    LITTLE,  toddling  tot  so  fair, 
•*•*'  Born  of  a  wish,  as  springs  a  prayer 
From  out  the  bosom  of  desire  — 
Two  little  feet  that  never  tire, 
Two  dimpled  hands  from  mischief  freed, 
Two  laughing  eyes  would  pardon  plead 
Of  heaven,  nor  can  the  mother  hide 
Her  admiration  while  she  chide :  — 
"N-n-no!" 

The  sweetest  words  to  mortal  ear 
Beyond  a  doubt  are :    "  Yes,  my  dear ! " 
But  human  nature's  children  show 
A  great  dislike  to  mother's  "  No  I'" 
And  while  they  mind  not  well  themselves, 
They  still  insist,  the  little  elves, 
Their  dollies  shall,  and  with  a  frown 
The  finger  's  up,  the  foot  comes  down :  — 
"No!    No!" 

T  is  strange  how  fair  some  maidens  grow, 
And  strange  how  every  youth  should  know ; 
And  stranger  still  that  she  should  fall 
In  love  with  one,  yet  like  them  all ; 
43 


No! 

To  him  her  heart  in  love's  excess 
Goes  out  in  sweetest,  fondest  "  Yes !  " 
To  all  the  others  she  can  give 
A  tender,  woundless  negative  :  — 
"  N-no  1 " 

The  Bible  brings  one  sin  to  mind 
That  heaven  will  not  forgive  mankind ; 
But  human  nature  finds  not  one 
The  mother  won't  forgive  her  son  : 
However  low,  through  drink,  he  falls, 
Her  love  goes  through  the  prison  walls ; 
She  '11  toil  in  want  to  fill  his  purse 
And  plead  above  his  drunken  curse :  — 
"No!    No!    No!" 

Supremest  valor  oft  we  show ; 
When  tempted  most  we  answer,  "  No  !  " 
Yet  heroes  of  the  battle  claim 
The  glory  of  immortal  name : 
No  doubt  they  earn  quite  all  they  get 
Who  face  the  foe's  fixed  bayonet. 
Surrender  ?  —  While  the  foemen  yell 
They  thunder  back  with  shot  and  shell :  - 
"No!    No!" 

The  righteous  man  lies  dying  here ; 
Pray  ask  him  if  he  has  a  fear  ; 
If  he  would  yield  his  faith  and  live 
For  all  this  pompous  world  can  give  — 

44 


No! 

Inquire  if  he  is  sorry  now 
He  loved  his  God  —  no  matter  how : 
He  shakes  his  head,  with  closing  eyes, 
A  speechless  negative  —  and  dies  :  — 

(No!    No  I) 


45 


JOSIAH   AND   SYMANTHY 

TOSIAH  loved  Symanthy 

J      And  Symanthy  loved  Josi', 

Which  you  could  n't  fail  to  notice 

In  the  rollin'  of  the  eye  ; 
But  they  never  told  each  other, 

On  account  o'  bein'  shy, 
Tears  to  me ! 

But  they  kept  right  on  a-lovin' 

Jes  like  any  couple  would. 
Were  n't  no  reason  why  they  should  n't, 

Ner  no  reason  why  they  should, 
'Cause  there  wa'  n't  no  p'ints  about  'em 

Cupid  reckoned  on  as  good, 
Tears  to  me ! 

Now,  this  love  disease  is  mortal, 
'Cause  it  tackles  mortals  so, 

An'  the  oftener  you  have  it 
The  worse  it  seems  to  grow ; 

More  you  try  to  hide  the  symptoms, 
More  the  symptoms  seem  to  show, 
Tears  to  me ! 

Josiah  was  uneasy 

When  Symanthy  was  n't  near, 
46 


Josiah  and  Symanthy 

An'  he  got  still  more  uneasy 
Whenever  she  'd  appear. 

But  sittin'  down  beside  'er 

Got  his  joints  clean  out  o'  gear, 
Tears  to  me  ! 


He  put  his  arm  behind  'er 
An'  then  he  pulled  it  back 

Until  Symanthy  giggled  : 

"  Guess  yer  gittin'  on  the  track 

By  the  way  yer  flusticatin' ; 
Kind  a-lookin'  fer  a  smack, 
Tears  to  me  ! " 

Then  Josiah  stopped  a  minute, 
Jes  consid'rin'  how  't  would  be 

An'  how  best  to  go  about  it, 
'Cause  he  had  n't  much  idee ; 

But  he  knew  't  was  waitin'  fer  him, 
By  Symanthy's  shy  te-he  ! 
Tears  to  me  1 

Then  Symanthy  got  pretendin' 
She  was  bitin'  off  her  thumb, 

But  she  was  n't —  she  was  waitin* 
For  whatever  chose  to  come  ; 

While  Josiah's  tongue  kept  rollin' 
In  his  cheek,  like  chewin'-gum, 
Tears  to  me  1 

47 


Josiah  and  Symanthy 

When  Josiah  was  persuaded 
That  Symanthy  would  n't  shout, 

Wa'  n't  a-jokin',  ner  a-foolin', 
Ner  a-fixin'  to  back  out,  — 

Then  he  buckled  up  his  courage : 
Kissed  her  cheek  or  thereabout, 
'Pears  to  me  1 

Then  he  asked  'er  if  she  'd  have  him, 
An'  she  answered :  "  What  d'  ye  guess  ? " 

Said  he  wa'  n't  no  good  at  guessin' ; 
So  she  smiled  an'  snickered :  "  Yes  ! 

Since  I  git  ye  all  fer  nothin' 
I  could  n't  do  no  less, 

Tears  to  me !  " 

When  the  Squire  asked  'em  the  questions  — 
On  the  weddin'-day  they  set  — 

Which  some  people  answer  quickly 
An'  about  as  soon  forget,  — 

Symanthy  said  :  "  I  reckin !  " 
An'  Josiah  said  :  "  You  bet  1 " 
'Pears  to  me ! 

When  they  took  their  weddin'  journey 

Up  an'  down  the  city  street, 
Josiah  told  Symanthy 

That  he  guessed  they  'd  have  a  treat : 
So  they  went  an'  got  some  oysters  — 
What  they  never  yet  had  eat, 
'Pears  to  me  1 
48 


Josiah  and  Symanthy 

Then  Josiah,  sort  o'  thinking 

Said  :  "  I  thought  they  had  a  shell ; 

What  the  slipp'ry  things  resemble 
I  '11  be  switched  if  I  can  tell ; 

An'  they  look  so  pale  an'  sickly 
Kind  o'  reckon  they  ain't  well, 
Tears  to  me !  " 

"  I  wonder  how  they  eat  'em  ?  " 
Said  Symanthy,  "  How  d'  I  know? 

I  've  eat  everythin'  that  you  have 
Ever  since  you  've  been  my  beau ! 

But  I  '11  bet  a  cent  ye  dasn't 
Put  one  in  an'  let  'er  go  ! 
Tears  to  me ! " 

While  Symanthy  eat  the  crackers 

Josiah  let  one  slip  ; 
Said  it  did  n't  taste  like  nothin' ; 

Was  n't  ripe  ;  then  closed  his  Up ; 
Vowed  he  wouldn't  eat  another, 

Fear  'twould  spile  his  weddin'  trip, 
Tears  to  me ! 

When  the  tip-expectin'  beggar 
Bowed  an',  smilin'  meekly,  said: 

"  Colonel  has  n't  feed  the  waitah ! " 
Then  Josiah  jerked  his  head  — 

"  You  can  feed  on  them  'ere  oysters 
If  the  pesky  things  ain't  dead, 
Tears  to  me ! " 

49 


THE   BIG   FISH    AND   THE 
LITTLE    FISH 

j\    LITTLE  minnow  wriggled  in  the  water  by  the 
^"^         sea, 

Dining  on  the  animalcules,  as  contented  as  could  be, 
When  along  there  came  a  larger  fish  with  mischief 

in  his  eye, 
Who  gobbled  up  the  minnow  as  he  'd  gobble  up  a 

fly. 

And  then  this  little  fish  went  off  to  have  a  quiet 

swim, 
When  a  fish  that  was  much  bigger  got  his  hungry 

eye  on  him 
And  swallowed  him  completely,  after  chasing  him 

awhile, 
Swimming  out  into  the  ocean  with  a  fishy  sort  of 

smile. 

Thus  he  reasoned :  "  All  these  little  fishes  Nature 

made  for  us ; 
Being  numbered  with  the  bigger  fish,  I  ate  the  little 

<cus;'" 
But  there  came  a  great   leviathan   his   hunger  to 

regale, 
So  he  finished  his  remarks  within  the  bosom  of  the 

whale. 

So 


The  Big  Fish  and  the  Little  Fish 

Along  there  came  a  whaler  with  a  mighty  big  har- 
poon, 

Who  boiled  the'  whole  caboodle  into  blubber  very 
soon :  — 

The  minnow  and  the  fishes  and  the  monarch  of  the 
sea 

Along  with  what  is  wrongly  called  the  an-i-mal- 
cu-le. 

Thus  Nature  has  provided 
Upon  a  singular  plan :  — 
By  which  it  is  decided 
A  fish  resembles  man  : 
For  this  the  rule  they  follow  — 
Whether  single  or  in  clan  ; 
The  big  fish  always  swallow 
The  little  fish  when  they  can. 


HOW   HANS   TOOK  SANTIAGO 

T  7  EN  I  reading  in  der  pabers 

*      How  dose  Spaniards  cutting  cabers  :  — 
Starving  all  their  Cuban  neighbors ; 

Blowing  up  der  State  of  Maine ; 
Und  dis  Nation  advertising 
For  der  soldiers,  I  surprising 
All  mine  enemies,  advising 

Dot  dey  go  and  fight  mit  Spain. 

I  vas  try  to  gone  mit  "  Teddy," 
But  I  could  n't  ride  already, 
For  my  horseback  vas  n't  steady, 

Und  dot  mustang  run'd  avay  :  — 
Yust  so  soon  I  got  astride  'er 
Und  she  knowed  I  vas  outside  'er, 
Oh,  I  vas  de  Roughest  Rider  — 

I  vas  seasick  half  a  day. 

Den  I  git  me  mad  right  after 
Und  I  march  avay  mit  Shafter  — 
Effrybody  shake  mit  laughter, 

Till  I  vish  I  gone  mit  Miles, 
Vere  dey  eat  embalmed  beef  stewey  ; 
Bedder  yet  I  gone  mit  Dewey 
For  to  fight  der  Flewey-Flewey, 

In  dose  Full-d* -peanuts  Isles. 
52 


How  Hans  Took  Santiago 

On  der  transports  ve  vent  sailing :  — 
Ven  I  felt  my  insides  failing, 
Den  I  rush  me  to  der  railing, 

In  der  greatest  hurry-cane^ 
Vere  I  throw,  mit  great  emotion, 
All  mine  feelin's  on  der  ocean, 
For  I  yust  conceive  der  notion 

Of  "  Remembering  der  Maine  /" 

I  told  Shafter  "  Vat  a  pity 

Dot  ve  vas  n't  born  more  witty  :  — 

Ef  you  vant  Havana  City 

Burn  der  grass  around  der  town, 
Den  ve  smoke  oud  dose  Manyana :  — 
Like  McKinley  und  like  Hanna  — 
All  der  soldiers  smoke  Havana 

Und  der  ting  vas  done  up  brown ! " 

Den  ve  sail  for  Santiago, 
Vich  look  bigger  as  Chicago, 
Und  ve  let  a  great  hurrah  go 

For  dot  Hobson  und  his  deed 
Vich  vas  earn  him  all  der  kiss'n, 
From  der  girls  vich  vas  n't  his  'n, 
Vile  de  udder  fellers  miss'n 

All  der  sour  grapes,  so  sweed. 

Schley  und  Sampson  vas  a-throwing 
All  der  shells  dere  vas  a-going ; 
Vile  der  Shafter  vant  ter  knowing 
Ven  dey  go'n'  ter  take  dot  fleet. 

53 


How  Hans  Took  Santiago 

I  told  Shafter :  "  Vat 's  der  trouble  ? 
Dose  Rough  Riders  —  gif  me  couble 
Of  a  hundert  vat  rides  double, 
I  yust  valk  up  mit  mine  feet 

"  One  behind  de  udder  sit ; 
Ef  der  head-man  he  got  hit, 
Ve  yust  hold  him  up  a  bit  — 

Mit  confusement  of  der  Don  :  — 
Ven  dey  shooting  at  der  head-man 
Dey  vas  shooting  at  der  dead  man ; 
Mit  der  cunning  of  de  red  man 

Ve  vill  take  dot  hill  San  Juan  1 " 

I  march  up  dot  hill  San  Juan 
Und  dot  Shafter  follow  on, 
Ven  der  Spaniards  vas  all  gone ; 

Dey  vas  frighten  of  his  size ; 
Und  I  capture  dose  Block-houses 
Und  der  Spaniards  mit  their  blouses, 
In  der  pasture  vere  der  cows  is, 

For  I  got  'em  hypnotize. 

Oh,  dot  battle  vas  exciding :  — 
Killed  a  horse  I  vas  n't  riding ; 
Und  some  Spaniards  vat  vas  hiding 

Yust  behind  a  barbed-wire  fence. 
Und  I  gave  them  such  defeating 
Dot  they  kept  right  on  retreating ; 
Vile  dose  Cubans  kept  on  eating 

At  our  government's  expense. 

54 


How  Hans  Took  Santiago 

Ven  dot  Spanish  man  commanding 
Unto  me  his  sword  vas  handing  — 
Veil,  I  could  n't  understanding 

Such  a  language  like  dose  — 
Und  I  say,  mit  heart  so  tender :  — 
"  Let  us  neither  both  surrender, 
Gif  ter  me  dot  gold  suspender, 

Und  I  let  you  keep  your  clothes." 

Und  he  say  to  me :  "  Mine  brother, 

Let  us  do  to  one  another 

Like  dot  Golden  Rule  !  "  I  ruther 

Tink  I  vill,  yust  vait  und  see  :  — 
Den,  dot  Golden  Rule  fulfilling, 
First,  mineself,  I  done  der  killing ; 
Den  I  told  him  I  vas  villing 

Dot  he  done  der  same  by  me. 

Wheeler  und  Lawton  vas  done  fightin'  — 
Und  dot  Roosevelt  done  rough-ritin'  — 
Mit  der  Shafter  "  aus  gescheiten  "  — 

Und  der  arms  vas  all  laid  down ; 
Den  der  flags  of  truce  dey  raises :  — 
Handkerchiefs  und  pillow-cases ; 
Und  dey  gif  me  all  der  praises, 

Mit  dot  Sandiago  town. 

Ven  historians  been  a-writing ; 
Und  school  children  been  reciting 
'Bout  der  Hans  vat  done  der  fighting  — 
Hans  der  hero  of  der  wars  — 

55 


How  Hans  Took  Santiago 

Let  'em  gif  some  praise  to  Shafter, 
Since  I  got  me  all  der  laughter, 
Ven  dey  ride  me  on  a  rafter 
'Cause  I  would  n't  ride  a  horse. 


AN   OLD  MAN'S    DREAM 

/t  N  old  man  sits  by  the  river's  brink  — 
*•*'    Like  an  old  horse  come  to  the  river  to  drink  — 
A  dry-rot  man  on  a  dry-rot  log ; 
And  all  is  still  save  the  croaking  frog, 
While  the  withered  leaves,  that  recall  the  dead, 
Fall  down  on  the  stream  from  the  boughs  overhead, 
And  floating  away  on  the  flowing  tide, 
Like  lives  on  the  river  of  time,  they  glide 
From  the  present  out  into  the  by-and-by, 
Where  the  river  runs  into  the  sunset  sky. 

He  recalls  his  youth :  sees  a  boy  at  play 
In  the  barefoot  time  of  the  yesterday ; 
And,  smacking  his  lips,  he  plucks  with  glee, 
Sweet  grapes  from  the  vines  of  memory ; 
And  the  silent  river  keeps  flowing  on, 
While  he  sips  the  wine  of  the  past  and  gone. 

He  knew  when  that  log  was  a  thrifty  tree, 
With  its  crooked  trunk,  like  a  bended  knee ; 
Where  he  fished  with  playfellows  many  a  day ; 
And  here  he  lingers,  but  where  are  theyr? 
How  many  are  living  ?     How  many  are  dead  ? 
And  the  sere  leaves  fall  from  the  boughs  overhead, 
While  the  answer  comes  from  the  croaking  frog 
To  the  dry-rot  man  on  the  dry-rot  log. 
57 


An  Old   Man's  Dream 

He  tries  to  remember  some  glorious  deed 
Which  shall  earn  for  him  an  eternal  meed :  — 
Though  countless  actions  he  may  recall, 
Come  none  but  little  ones,  after  all ; 
Till  half  discouraged  he  falls  asleep 
On  the  bank  of  the  river  so  broad  and  deep  ; 
On  the  dry-rot  log  by  the  water's  brim ; 
On  the  dry-rot  log  that  is  like  to  him. 

On  the  trail  of  sleep  there  follows  a  dream 
Wherein  he,  like  the  sere  leaf  on  the  stream, 
From  the  present  floats  into  the  by-and-by, 
Where  the  river  runs  into  the  sunset  sky ; 
While  angels  come  down  to  the  horizon  brim, 
Down  out  of  the  glory  to  welcome  him  ; 
With  their  wings  aglow  and  their  faces  fair ; 
With  their  white  robes  trailing  the  golden  stair 
That  leads  from  the  pearly  gates  on  high, 
Through  the  opal  tints  of  the  cumuli, 
Down  to  the  horizon's  rosy  brim ; 
And  thus  they  speak  as  they  welcome  him  — 
With  the  psalm  of  life  in  their  rustling  wings :  - 
"  We  are  the  angels  of  little  things  !  " 

Each  one  on  her  girdle  seems  to  bear 
A  name  that  glory  had  written  there  :  — 
One  is  a  speech  that  was  simply  kind ; 
One  is  a  song  that  had  cheered  the  blind. 
Here  is  a  rose  that  had  brought  much  joy 
To  the  lonely  life  of  a  crippled  boy  1 

58 


An  Old  Man's  Dream 

There  is  a  smile  that  prevented  strife 
And  changed  the  trend  of  a  human  life  ! 
Here  is  a  kiss  by  the  world  forgot 
On  the  brow  of  death  at  a  soldier's  cot ! 


Yonder  a  face  that  had  often  smiled 
On  the  homeless  waif  and  the  orphan  child ! 
Here  is  a  foot  that  had  weary  grown 
Seeking  the  weal  of  the  world's  unknown  ! 
There  the  hand  that  had  plucked  the  thorn 
From  the  brow  of  shame,  in  the  face  of  scorn ! 
But  the  brightest  of  all  in  that  land  of  joy 
Was  a  mother's  tear  for  her  wayward  boy 
That  had  dropped  in  a  plea  bereft  of  art : 
The  silent  prayer  of  a  broken  heart. 

The  dreamer  speaks  to  the  angels  there : 
"  Since  you  are  so  beautiful,  and  so  fair 
As  angels  of  little  things,  pray  you,  tell 
Where  do  the  angels  of  great  things  dwell  ? " 

"  There  are  none  greater,  except  it  be 
That  even  the  least  are  greater  than  we ! 
The  King  of  Glory  hath  never  a  need 
That  mortals  perform  some  wonderful  deed. 
Ofttimes  the  deed  which  a  man  deems  great 
In  the  scales  of  Heaven  has  little  weight ! 
While  one  that  may  seem  unto  him  so  small 
In  the  light  of  glory  outshines  them  all !  " 

59 


An  Old  Man's  Dream 

The  dreamer  is  charmed,  and  fain  would  stay 
In  the  light  and  the  love  and  the  life  alway, 
Where  the  angels  give  such  welcome  to  him ; 
So  he  comes  not  back  to  the  river's  brim ; 

And  the  dry-rot  man,  on  the  dry-rot  log, 
Heeds  not  the  song  of  the  croaking  frog, 
Nor  the  breeze  that  lifts  his  thin  white  hair, 
Nor  those  who  come  to  waken  him  there, 
Nor  the  withered  leaves,  how  fast  they  fall ; 
For  the  vision  is  not  a  dream  after  all, 
But  a  thing  with  eternal  glory  rife  :  - 
For  the  sleep  is  Death  ;  but  the  dream  is  Life  1 


60 


OLD    GLORY 

T    ET  others  boast  of  clique  or  clan, 
-*— '  There  is  no  prouder  boast  of  man 
Than  this  :     "  I  am  American  !  "  — 

The  nation  great  in  story  — 
Where  one  can  rise  from  any  grade, 
And  few  are  warriors  by  trade, 
But  all  are  soldiers  ready  made, 

To  fight  for  dear  Old  Glory. 

How  proud  I  am 

Of  Uncle  Sam  : 
He 's  known  throughout  creation, 

As  ruler  of 

The  land  I  love: 
This  grand  and  mighty  nation. 

What  though  I  brag 

About  the  flag 
She  well  deserves  renown  :  — 

No  enemy 

On  land  or  sea 
Has  ever  pulled  her  down. 

And  when  our  eagle,  soaring  high, 
Trails  that  loved  banner  through  the  sky, 
The  nation  hears  her  battle-cry  — 
That  grand  old  eagle,  hoary  — 
61 


Old  Glory 

From  North  and  South,  from  either  shore, 
Brave  thousands  gather  thousands  more ; 
From  peerless  fleets  great  cannon  roar, 
Defenders  of  Old  Glory. 

No  despots  rule,  no  tyrants  rise 
Where  Liberty's  great  banner  flies, 
And  soars  that  monarch  of  the  skies  — 

Our  grand  old  eagle,  hoary. 
Where  rich  and  poor  together  cling, 
And  fight  for  Justice,  while  they  sing 
Of  Freedom,  there  's  no  conquering 

The  sons  of  dear  Old  Glory. 

Each  star  a  nation  grand  and  free, 
Each  stripe  a  bond  of  liberty ; 
Where'er  it  floats,  on  land  or  sea, 

It  tells  the  self-same  story  — 
No  hand  shall  wield  oppression's  rod 
Where  Progress'  gleaming  feet  have  trod, 
Where  Justice  rules,  with  Freedom's  God 

Defending  dear  Old  Glory. 


62 


IRISH   CHARITY 

were  two  Irish  lads  with  their  hearts  all 
a-throb,  — 
They  'd  been  killing  the  pigs  and  just  finished  the 

job : 
"  Now,  Patrick,    come   here   wid   yer   broad   Irish 

back! 

Take  up  these  potatoes,  the  full  o'  the  sack ! 
And  ye  '11  niver  get  weary,  now  mind  phat  I  say, 
Till  ye  're  down  by  the  house  of  the  Widow  McKay ; 
Lave  them  under  the  hedge,  covered  up  by  the 

twigs, 

And  I  '11  follow  ye  shortly  wid  one  o'  the  pigs ; 
Thin  I  '11  take  the  potatoes  and  knock  at  her  door, 
Like  ye  '11  do  wid  the  pig  in  a  few  minutes  more. 
What  for  ?     For  to  ate !  trust  yer  brother  for  that ; 
Ye  've  the  heart  in  yer  vest,  I  've  the  brains  in  me 

hat! 

We  Ve  enough  for  the  winter,  a  trifle  beside, 
While  the  widow  has  nothin'  to  ate  but  her  pride. 

"  She  was  born  a  true  lady,  and  stuck  to  it  well, 
But  now  she  's  come  down  in  the  cottage  to  dwell ; 
HavhY  lost  the  estate  she  is  mighty  poor  now 
And  can't  earn  her  livin',  she  does  n't  know  how ; 
While  Sorrow,  pale  spinner,  has  left  in  her  hair 
A  few  silver  threads  from  the  shuttle  of  care. 


Irish  Charity 

Though  she  's  too  proud  to  say  it,  I  know  she  's  in 

need, 
And  ye  '11  not  suffer  that  if  ye  're  true  Irish  breed. 

"  She  was  kind  to  us  both  whin  she  'd  plenty,  galore, 
So  lave  down  the  sack  where  I  told  ye  before ; 
And  whin  I  've  got  in  and  the  meetin'  occurred 
Ye  '11  come  in  wid  the  pig,  niver  sayin'  a  word ; 
Lave  the  pig  do  the  talkin',  although  he  be  dead ; 
Whin   yer  charity  spakes  kape    yer  tongue  in  yer 

head. 
Don't  be  wastin'  the  time  whin  ye  know  ye  're  all 

right ; 
Though  the  burden  be  heavy  yer  heart  makes  it 

light, 

And  the  moisture  of  toil  from  yer  brow  shall  arise 
Like  an  incense  of  charity,  clane  to  the  skies." 

Daniel  went  to  the  door,  gave  a  delicate  knock,  — 
With  his  heart  throbbing  loud  like  the  tick  of  a 

clock :  — 
"Why,   Daniel,    God    bless    you!"     said    Widow 

McKay, 

"  God  bring  ye  a  blessin'  yerself,  the  same  day," 
Said  Daniel,  "  But  speakin'  o'  blessin's,  look  here : 
Are  ye  raisin'  potatoes  on  bushes  this  year  ? 
Some  thief  left  'em  there,  for  me  honor  I  pledge, 
I  found  these  potatoes  hid  under  yer  hedge !  " 

"  I  have  no  potatoes,  good  Daniel,  you  see, 
Then  how  could  a  thief  take  potatoes  from  me  ? 


Irish  Charity 

Though  honesty  's  written  all  over  your  face 

You  would  lie  for  the  truth  like  the  rest  of   the 

race/' 
"  'T  is  the  truth,  for  I  made  the  bold  thief  put  'em 

down : 

Pie  'd  a  taste  o'  me  moind  on  the  top  of  his  crown ; 
I  could  beat  him  no  further,  although  I  was  roiled, 
Lest  I  mash  the  potatoes  before  they  were  boiled. 
Ye  can  ask  the  potatoes,  they  '11  tell  ye  no  lies, 
They  could  see  it  themselves,  they  have  plenty  of 

eyes. 

These  Murphys  are  moral  and  moity  well  raised, 
And  if  wid  their  actions  yer  iver  displazed, 
Take  their  coats  off  and  warm  thim,  as  one  would 

a  lad ; 
It  will  be  yer  own  fault  if  they  iver  turn  bad. 

"  But  a  sorry,  sad  favor  I  '11  ask  ye  this  time,  — 
For  Patrick,  me  brother,  's  committed  a  crime :  — 
Ye  know  what  a  temper  he  has,  I  declare ; 
Well,  yer  pig  was  out  walkin',  just  takin'  the  air 
And  what  he    could  find  —  found  a  hole  in   our 

fence ; 

Once  into  the  garden  he  would  n't  go  thence, 
But  kept  gruntin'  —  <  Ugh!    Ugh!'  meanin' :  '•Lave 

me  alone  ! ' 

Thin  Patrick  gets  mad  and  he  ups  wid  a  stone,  — 
And  the  pig  turnin'  round  wid  a  look  of  surprise, 
The    stone  struck  him  fair  right  betune   his   two 

eyes; 

65 


Irish  Charity 

And  he  lay  there  confessin'  the  sins  of  his  life, 
Whin   I   saved  him  by  cuttin'  his  throat  wid  me 
knife. 

"  Then   straightway  we  dressed  him :   *  You  killed 

him  ! '  said  Pat. 
'  It  was   I   saved   his  bacon,  ye  rogue,  mark  you 

that ! '  " 

"  Hush,  Daniel,  I  have  n't  a  pig  on  the  place !  " 
"  That  is  true,"  muttered  Dan,  "  for  he  's  dead,  save 

yer  grace  ! 
Here  they  come,  both  heads  down  ;    don't  let  on 

that  ye  know ; 

For  Pat,  like  the  pig,  feels  the  weight  of  the  blow. 
See  the  prisoner  come  wid  his  crime  to  the  bar ! 
Ah,  Patrick,  ye  look  like  the  culprit  ye  are ! 
The  widow  's  in  tears  that  her  pig  should  be  dead ! 
Take  it  out  of  her  sight !    Lave  it  down  in  the  shed  ! 
She  '11  forgive  ye  this  toime  if  ye  '11  try  to  be  good, 
So  ye  '11  cut  up  the  pork  while  I  cut  up  some  wood : 
As  a  bit  of  a  relish  whin  through  wid  our  toil, 
She  '11  put  on  some  potatoes   to  try  how  they  'd 

boil- 

Wid  a  taste  o'  the  pork,  till  we  see  whin  we  dine, 
The  Divil  of  Hunger  cast  out  by  the  swine." 

They  sat  at  the  table,  each  bowing  his  head  :  — 
"  What  need  ask  the  blessin'  ?    'tis  here  !  "    Daniel 
said. 

66 


Irish  Charity 

Her  heart  clogged  her  throat  and  the  tears  clogged 

her  eye  ; 
Which  the  boys  couldn't  stand;  they  slipped  out 

on  the  sly, 
And  walking  off  home  with  their  hearts  swelling 

big, 
Said  they  never  before  got  so  much  for  a  pig. 

"  If  we  lied  wid  our  tongues,  we  did  not  wid  our 

heart ; 

And  the  widow  is  prayin',  now  takin'  our  part ; 
And  if  word  could  come  down,  sure,  St.  Peter  would 

say : 

1  You  boys  do  the  work,  leave  the  widow  to  pray ! ' 
And  whin  we  go  up  he  will  say,  I  presume :  — 
*  These   boys   fed   the  widow!     Let    angels   make 

room ! ' " 


67 


ON  T  OTHER  SIDE  THE  WORLD 

T  TOW  strange  to  us  all  things  appear 
-"     On  t'  other  side  the  world ; 
The  customs  are  so  very  queer 

On  t'  other  side  the  world ; 
There,  people  are  but  poorly  fed 
And  laziness  is  born  and  bred ; 
When  we  get  up  they  go  to  bed, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world. 

If  things  are  as  they  're  said  to  be, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world, 
They  're  quite  reversed,  to  you  and  me, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world ; 
What  we  call  east,  why,  they  call  west; 
We  could  n't  eat  what  they  digest ; 
They  think  they  're  clothed  when  partly  dressed, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world. 

So  far  behind  the  times  they  seem, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world ; 
Like  people  living  in  a  dream, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world ; 
So  old,  they  've  all  turned  black  or  brown ; 
And  like  the  steeples  in  the  town, 
The  citizens  are  upside  down, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world. 
68 


On  t'  Other  Side  the  World 

The  birds  turn  on  their  backs  to  fly, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world ; 
The  rain  falls  upward  from  the  sky, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world ; 
The  grass  grows  down,  you  must  allow, 
And  when  the  maiden  milks  the  cow, 
She  milks  her  up,  she  does,  I  vow ! 

On  t'  other  side  the  world. 

If  good  folks  rise  when  they  are  dead, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world, 
Where  up  is  surely  overhead, 

On  f  other  side  the  world, 
The  journey  takes  them,  you  must  know, 
Where  all  our  wicked  sinners  go, 
Because  their  up  is  down  below, 

On  t'  other  side  the  world. 


COIN'  A-FISHIN' 

TJT  O W  often  we  sigh  for  the  pebbled  stream 
A  •*•   That  rippled  along  through  childhood's  dream, 
In  the  barefoot  days  when  our  feet  were  tough 
And  holidays  never  seemed  long  enough  — 
That  important  stream  which  the  little  chap 
Oft  wonders  is  never  put  on  the  map  — 
With  the  trees  that  gathered  on  either  bank 
In  grateful  shade  for  the  water  they  drank, 
Where  we  went  a-fishhV. 

The  oak,  the  elm,  and  the  white  sycamore, 
And  those  that  the  beech  and  the  butternut  bore  : 
All  sorts  of  trees,  to  our  youthful  ken, 
Which  differed  in  this  from  our  fellow  men, 
That  they  did  n't  grumble  nor  crowd,  nor  push. 
From  the  old  dead  tree  or  the  baby  bush 
To  the  clinging  vine  on  the  giant  tall 
There  was  room  for  each,  there  was  room  for  all, 
When  we  went  a-fishin'. 

The  stream  was  ours,  or  narrow  or  wide, 
No  matter  who  owned  the  land  each  side ; 
'T  was  ours  by  birth  and  the  boyhood  right 
Of   tramping  over  it  day  or  night  — 

70 


Coin'  A  -  Fishin' 

To  wade  the  ripples  and  swim  the  pools 
And  watch  how  minnows  behaved  in  schools , 
Of  which  they  seemed  much  fonder  than  we, 
When  under  the  shade  of  the  sycamore-tree 
We  sat  a-fishin'. 

No  need  of  wishing  for  fancy  shoes 
Or  traps  a  barefoot  boy  could  n't  use  — 
For  \hzfirst  one  in,  as  the  swimmer  knows, 
Was  the  lucky  boy  with  the  fewest  clothes  — 
But  a  rattan  pole  and  a  line  brand-new, 
A  painted  bob  and  a  hook  steel-blue, 
A  bone-handle  knife  with  a  shiny  blade 
Or  any  old  knife  for  an  "  unseen  "  trade 
When  we  went  a-fishin'. 

We  knew  the  stream  for  miles  each  way 
And  held  possession  in  tireless  play : 
With  skates  in  winter,  a  boat  in  the  spring, 
And  a  summer  dive  from  the  grape-vine  swing  - 
We  almost  pitied  the  cherubim 
Because  they  neither  could  fish  nor  swim. 
What  though  we  seldom  could  feel  a  bite  ? 
We  had  the  barefooted  boy's  delight 
Of  goin'  a-fishin'. 

Alas,  for  the  boy  who  has  never  owned 
A  pebbled  stream  where  he  sat  enthroned 
On  the  buttressed  dam  where  the  water  poured, 
And  dared  his  fellows  dive  overboard ! 

7' 


Coin'  A-Fishin' 

Why  blame  the  boy  if  he  like  to  fish  ? 
The  man,  full-grown,  has  the  self-same  wish : 
And  even  to-day,  with  barter  and  strife, 
We  cast  our  hook  in  the  stream  of  life  — 
Still  goin'  a-fishin'. 


I   WOULD   NOT   SHOOT 

T>  E  not  afraid,  my  pretty  quail, 
•*-*     Nor  flurry  off  to  hide  your  trail ; 
I  love  to  hear  you  sing  —  "  Bob  White  "  - 
No  need  to  fly  in  such  a  fright ; 
You  're  welcome  with  your  tiny  brood 
To  all  the  farm  and  all  your  food ; 
Thrice  more  delight  you  bring  the  eye 
Than  tongue  of  epicure  can  buy. 
I  will  not  shoot ! 

Oh,  how  I  love  you,  little  birds ! 
Singing  anthems  without  words 
That  flood  the  woodland  where  you  dwell. 
I  hear  sweet  flute-notes,  knowing  well 
Some  meadow-lark  will  flutter  by  ; 
I  watch  with  pride,  there,  in  the  sky, 
The  wide- winged  hawk  in  circles  go ; 
And  even  yonder  friendly  crow 
I  would  not  shoot. 

Come,  panting  fox,  come  hide  you  here ! 
You  need  not  have  the  slightest  fear ; 
I  'd  sooner  hurt  the  howling  pack 
Thrown  by  thy  cunning  off  the  track. 
Prettiest  of  four-footed  things  ! 
A  score  of  dogs  the  hunter  brings 

73 


I  Would  Not  Shoot 

And  men  a-horse  with  crimson  frocks, 
And  all  to  catch  a  little  fox ! 
I  would  not  shoot ! 

There,  grazing  on  the  mountain  high, 
In  silhouette  against  the  sky, 
I  see  the  timid,  graceful  deer, 
Whose  chief  inheritance  is  fear. 
Let  man,  who  simply  hunts  to  kill 
That  he  may  boast  about  his  skill, 
Go  shoot  the  targe  and  eat  the  ox, 
But  leave  the  woods  to  deer  and  fox, 
If  he  must  shoot ! 

And  thou,  grand  eagle,  art  the  king 
Of  all  that  stride,  or  stretch  the  wing ! 
E'en  lordly  man  thou  canst  defy  : 
Thou  soarest  in  the  farther  sky 
Above  the  storms  that  earth  invade, 
Beyond  where  thunderbolts  are  made, 
The  nearest  earthly  thing  to  God ; 
Treads  there  a  man  on  freedom's  sod 
Would  dare  to  shoot  ? 

Where  is  the  shaggy  buffalo  ? 
Jehovah's  herds,  where  did  they  go  ? 
His  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills 
No  more  the  selfish  hunter  kills ; 
For  hides  alone  were  myriads  slain  ! 
Of  those  proud  monarchs  of  the  plain, 

74 


I  Would  Not  Shoot 

We  save  posterity  a  few 
By  placing  them  within  a  "  Zoo," 
Where  none  dare  shoot 

Thou  stealthy  waddler  of  the  wood, 
Go  seek  some  wilder  neighborhood, 
Or  get  thee  to  thy  hermitage ! 
I  like  thee  tamed,  or  in  a  cage, 
Or  stuffed  outside  the  furrier's  door, 
Or  just  thy  skin  spread  on  the  floor ! 
To  trust  a  bear  might  be  my  ruin : 
For  fear  thou  hast  some  mischief  brewing, 
I  '11  have  to  shoot. 


75 


FOR   A    BOY 

TT7HERESOE'ER  a  boy  go  sailing, 
Or  whatever  the  wind  prevailing, 
He  will  hear  some  sailor  hailing :  — 

"  Ship,  ahoy  !  " 

Though  with  strangers  ever  meeting, 
Where  salutes  are  only  fleeting, 
Still  there  's  always  friendly  greeting 

For  a  boy. 

Though  a  stranger  he  may  roam 
Underneath  the  arching  dome, 
Fate  will  always  find  a  home 

For  a  boy ; 

And  on  this  he  may  depend : 
That  where'er  his  footsteps  trend 
God  will  always  find  a  friend 

For  a  boy. 

Mother  in  the  armchair  sitting,  — 
Tender  visions  past  her  flitting ; 
But  the  tears  that  stop  her  knitting 

Don't  annoy. 

Though  at  home  remain  the  brother, 
Still  the  heavy-hearted  mother 
Keeps  on  yearning  for  that  other 

Precious  boy. 

76 


MOTHER     KNOWS     I'M     COMIN' 
HOME 

/CONDUCTOR,  thar's  my  ticket, 
^^  Jes  punch  it  through  an'  through, 
An'  when  yer  tired  o'  punchin' 

Give  me  a  punch  er  two ! 
I  've  been  so  long  from  mother 

An'  paid  so  little  heed 
To  all  her  gentle  pleadin', 

A  trouncin'  's  what  I  need. 
I  've  been  out  West  a-minin' 

An'  found  a  heap  o'  gold ; 
Yes,  I  've  been  growin'  wealthy, 

With  mother  growin'  old  ; 
But  now  we  '11  taste  the  honey 

That 's  in  the  honeycomb  : 
I  've  sent  her  lots  o'  money, 

An'  she  knows  I  'm  comin'  home. 

I  've  seen  a  heap  o'  mothers 

With  faces  most  divine,  — 
Perhaps  as  dear  to  others  — 

But  never  one  like  mine ; 
An'  when  I  got  a-thinkin' 

About  her  love  for  me, 

77 


Mother  Knows  I  'm  Comin'  Home 

I  wondered  if  in  heaven 

The  folks  were  good  as  she. 
I  Ve  no  excuse  to  offer 

For  wanderin'  about ; 
I  had  the  rovin'  fever 

An'  had  to  wear  it  out ; 
But  now  we  '11  taste  the  honey 

That 's  in  the  honeycomb, 
For  I  have  written  mother 

That  I  am  comin'  home. 

In  boyhood  sport,  my  father 

An'  I  could  not  agree  : 
He  never  took  the  trouble 

To  be  a  boy  with  me ;  — 
An*  while  we  lived  together 

We  seemed  to  grow  apart ; 
But  what  he  lost,  my  mother 

Kept  gainin'  in  my  heart. 
It 's  mighty  hard  a-startin', 

But  once  you  Ve  got  away 
In  the  land  of  the  forgetful, 

It 's  easy  'nough  to  stay  — 
Until  you  miss  the  honey 

That 's  in  the  honeycomb 
An'  write  yer  dear  old  mother 

That  you  are  comin'  home. 

I  Ve  been  in  Californy, 

Whar  so  many  flowers  grow, 
78 


Mother  Knows  I  'm  Comin'  Home 

There 's  danger  treadin'  on  'em 

Less  you  're  watchin'  whar  you  go  : 
Houses  overgrown  with  roses 

Have  a  calla  lily  hedge, 
With  geraniums  a-climbin' 

To  the  gable  window  ledge  — 
All  the  year,  out-doors  a-bloomin', 

Yet  there  's  nothin'  to  compare 
With  yer  boyhood  mornin'-glories 

An'  yer  mother  standin'  there ! 
An'  that 's  the  kind  o'  honey 

That 's  in  the  honeycomb  ; 
I  can  see  her  thar  a-watchin' 

'Cause  she  knows  I  'm  comin'  home. 


I  know  jes  what  she 's  doin'  — 

She 's  watchin'  somethin'  grow : 
Those  red  an'  yellow  roses, 

Because  I  liked  'em  so ; 
An'  talkin'  to  the  neighbors 

About  her  splendid  boy, 
An'  checkin'  with  her  apron 

Her  overflowin'  joy  — 
As  though  I  were  some  angel 

That  never  did  a  wrong  — 
But  that 's  the  way  o'  mothers  : 

Love  is  their  only  song ! 
Now,  that 's  the  kind  o'  honey 

That 's  in  the  honey  comb  , 

79 


Mother  Knows  I  'm  Comin'  Home 

I  wrote  her  all  about  it, 

An'  she  knows  I  'm  com  in'  home. 

You  forgot  to  punch  my  ticket,  — 

Well,  any  time  will  do ;  - 
No  doubt  I  've  set  you  thinkin' 

About  yer  mother,  too, 
An'  how  she  longs  to  see  you  — 

You  need  n't  try  to  speak 
With  that  distilled  emotion 

A-runnin'  down  yer  cheek  ; 
For  that 's  a  sort  o'  language 

That  one  can  understand 
Without  a  dictionary  — 

Conductor,  thar  's  my  hand : 
An'  if  you  want  the  honey 

While  it 's  in  the  honeycomb, 
Jes  write  yer  dear  old  mother 

That  you  are  comin'  home. 


80 


AN   EVERY -DAY   DOLLY 

COME  here,  little  Dolly ;  don't  cry  any  more 
Because  a  big  dolly  has  come  from  the  store ; 
Our  people  are  making  a  terrible  fuss 
Because  a  big  fortune  has  fallen  to  us ; 
And  nothing  would  do 
But  a  dolly  brand-new  ; 
But  I  never  can  love  her  as  I  love  you. 

We  loved  each  other  when  we  were  poor  ; 
You  were  all  I  had  in  the  world,  I'm  sure  ; 

And  now  you  shall  be 

Just  the  same  to  me  ; 
So  wipe  the  tear  from  your  only  eye 
With  your  broken  hand.     Dear  Dolly,  dorft  cry  ! 

I  'd  give  you  silk  dresses,  with  ribbons  and  lace, 
And  put  a  new  eye  in  your  pitiful  face, 
With  a  hand,  and  a  foot,  and  slippers  brand-new  — 
But  I  'm  sure  I  should  cry,  for  it  would  n't  be  you. 

You  're  prettier  far 

With  a  bump  and  a  scar ; 
For  I  love  you,  my  Dolly,  just  as  you  are. 

The  rich  have  their  troubles  in  social  affairs, 
And  often  get  weary  with  putting  on  airs :  — 
Si 


An  Every  -  Day  Dolly 

I  'd  like  to  go  back  playing  dolly  once  more, 
With  an  every-day  dress,  on  an  every-day  floor  - 

Back  to  where  I  can  show 

The  devotion  I  owe 
To  my  every-day  Dolly,  —  I  love  her  so  ! 


82 


BUYING  A    DOLL 

Robert  LeClade  the  millionaire 
Was  leisurely  passing  a  toy-shop  where 
A  poor  little  tot  with  a  ragged  dress  — 
That  signal  of  want  to  his  lordship,  Success  — 
Looked  into  the  window  and  wistfully  eyed 
The  numberless  beautiful  dolls  inside, 
And  stopping  to  listen  he  heard  her  say : 
"  Why  could  n't  you  dollies  come  out  and  play  ? 
Have  n't  you  got  any  every-day  clothes  ? 
You  could  n't  come  out  as  you  are,  I  suppose  : 
Silk  stockings,  kid  slippers,  a  feather  and  hat ;  — 
If  ever  I  bought  me  a  dolly  like  that, 
So  prettily  dressed,  I  guess  it  would  be 
Ashamed  of  a  poor  ragged  mother  like  me !  " 

Spoke  Robert :  "  Pray,  where  do  you  live,  little  dear  ? 

And  what  are  you  doing  away  over  here  ? " 

"God  helps  little  children,"  said  she,  "if  they're 

good, 

But  I  live  in  a  very  bad  neighborhood 
And  cannot  expect  him  to  look  after  me, 
So  I  come  over  here  where  He 's  likely  to  be, 
And  look  at  the  dollies  most  every  day ; 
Then  counting  my  pennies  I  run  away 
For  fear  the  dollies  will  see  me  cry  — 
For  pennies  are  scarce  and  dollies  are  high  ! " 

83 


Buying  a  Doll 

It  touched  the  heart  of  Robert  LeClade, 
Who,  taking  the  hand  of  the  little  maid, 
Went  into  the  store,  asking  Mrs.  Martell 
For  the  prettiest  dolly  she  had  to  sell ; 
Which  the  widow's  beautiful  daughter  got ; 
And  this  he  gave  to  the  little  tot ; 
Then  filling  her  pockets  with  coin,  said  he, 
"  Take  that  to  your  mamma,  whoever  she  be  !  " 
For  Robert  LeClade  had  learned  that  day  : 
One  gets  more  back  than  he  gives  away. 

Then  the  poor  little  tot  gave  his  coat  a  pull, 
While  her  arms  and  her  heart  and  her  eyes  were 

full; 

Her  thanks  told  only  in  grateful  sobs  — 
That  matchless  speech  of  the  heart  that  throbs  — 
She  pressed  his  hand  to  her  quivering  lips ; 
'T  was  a  touch  of  the  soul  on  the  finger-tips ! 
Then  hugging  her  treasure  ran  off  pell-mell. 

"  If  I  were  your  mother,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Martell, 

"  I  'd  kiss  you  myself,  for  the  good  you  've  wrought !  " 

"  So  would   I  ! "    said   the    daughter,    before   she 

thought : — 

Her  heart  had  taken  her  tongue  by  surprise, 
Then  gone  to  her  cheek  to  apologize  — 
How  often  has  truth  from  captivity  sprung 
And  peached  on  the  heart  by  a  slip  of  the  tongue. 

Then  Robert  discovered,  as  others  have  done, 
That  in  searching  for  dolls  he  had  overlooked  one : 
84 


Buying  a  Doll 

"  I  wanted  the  prettiest  doll  in  the  store ; 
Good  Widow  Martell,  you  have  one  dolly  more 
I  would  give  the  half  of  my  wealth  to  own ; 
For  a  prettier  dolly  I  never  have  known. 
And  not  until  now  could  I  fully  prize 
The  jeweled  light  in  her  luminous  eyes." 


"  You  would  like  to  buy  ? "  said  Mrs.  Martell, 

"  And  such  a  bargain  would  please  me  well, 

I  'm  aware  of  the  virtues  that  you  extol, 

But  ask  her  yourself,  —  she 's  a  talking  doll." 

But  Nellie,  the  daughter,  made  quick  reply : 

"  Some  dollies  there  are  that  money  can't  buy ! 

Am  I  on  the  bargain  counter  to-day  ?  — 

Or  a  sample  of  dolls  to  be  given  away  ?  — 

Would    you    gaze   on    my  features,    examine    my 

nose  ?  — 

Find  out  if  my  eyes  will  both  open  and  close  ?  — 
If  I  'm  china,  or  bisque,  or  papier-mache, 
With  sawdust  well  stuffed  the  conventional  way  ?  — 
If  the  clothes  are  well  made  and  the  scalp  is  on 

tight  ?  — 
If  my  arms  are  in  place  and   the  joints   working 

right  ? 

You  Ve  purchased  one  dolly  already  to-day ; 
It  was  no  sooner  bought  than  given  away ; 
But  it  showed  me  your  heart  was  worth  more  than 

your  gold ; 

And  since  you  will  purchase  I  'm  here  to  be  sold 
85 


Buying  a  Doll 

If  you  '11  give  me  a  deed  to  the  heart,  title  clear, 
With  the  wealth  of  its  revenues  always,  my  dear." 
"  A   bargain  !  "  cried    Robert.    "  First  payment  be 

this : " 
As  he  leaned  o'er  the  counter  to  give  her  a  kiss. 

"  N-n-no ! "   said  the   maid,    as  she  backed  out   of 

range, 
"Would  you  pay  me  in  cash  for  the  sake  of  the 

change  ? 

Do  not  whistle  so  loud  till  you  're  out  of  the  woods ; 
And   please  mind  the  placard :   '  Dorft  handle  the 

goods  ! ' 

All  these  kisses  are  yours,  but  be  patient  until 
I  've  delivered  the  goods  and  presented  my  bill. 
When  lips  are  caressing  their  language  is  such 
They  try  to  tell  all,  and  get  talking  too  much. 
So  I  '11  give  you  just  one  and  put  my  heart  in  it, 
But  I  cannot  turn  kissing-doll  all  in  a  minute." 


86 


RASTUS 

^OOD  mo'nin',  deah  ole  Mistus  ! 

I  's  ole  Rastus  done  come  back ! 
An'  so  dreful  glad  ter  see  you 

1 7s  weepin',  fo'  a  fac'. 
An'  when  you  hears  de  story 

Dat  I 's  a-gwine  ter  tell, 

You'  blessed  heart  I  reckon 

Will  jes  begin  ter  swell 

Lake  my  ole  heart 's  a-swellin'  ter  see  you'  blessed 

face, 

A-smilin'  me  a  welcome  back  ter  de  deah  ole  place. 
Down  dar  's  de  ole  log-cabin,  wha'  I  was  bo'n  an' 

growed  ; 
An'  dars  de  ribbah  flowin'  jes  lake  it  allus  flowed ; 

Wiv  barefoot  piccaninnies  gwine  down  ter  hab   a 

swim  ; 
But  dey  don't  know  ole  Rastus,  dey  nebbah  beared 

o'  him. 
But  in  de  woods  down  yon'er  by  de  ole  persimmon 

tree, 
You  bet  some  ole  fat  possum  done  got  his  eye  on 

me. 

87 


Rastus 

I  hears  de  wattah-million  jes  a-laughin'  at  dis  coon ! 
Dey  knows  ole  Rastus'  failin' :  he  gwine  plunk  'em 

mighty  soon. 
One  mule  begin  ter  hollah,  an'  den  de  whole  blame 

pack :  — 
"  Ole  Rastus  !  Rastus  !  Rastus  !    'Mancipation  done 

come  back ! " 

But  things  don't  look  right  thrifty  aroun'  de  place 

jes  now ; 
Is  dat  because  de  mawster  ain't  heah  ter  show  'em 

how  ? 
An'  is  it  true  ole  Mistus  —  dat  you  done  lost  you' 

hold 
Upon  de  ole  plantation,  till  now  it 's  gwine  be  sold  ? 

Not  ef  you  heahs  ole  Rastus ;  now  Mistus  don'  you 

smile 

Until  I 's  done  a-talkin'  —  I  finish  aftah  while  : 
I  knows  de  "  'Mancipation  "  done  set  evah-body  free, 
But  I  wah  bo'n  you'  niggah,  an'  I 's  allus  gwine  ter 

be! 

I  guess   you   recomembah  when    de   sojers   come 

along, 
A-shoutin'  ter   de   niggahs  an'  a-singin'  freedom's 

song! 
Oh,  dey  was  pow'ful  noisy ;  an'  dis  jes  what  dey 

say:  — 
"  Come  along,  ole  'Mancipation,  we  gwine  help  you 

run  away ! " 

88 


Rastus 

I  was  sahvent  to  de  colonel  all  thoo  de  awful  strife, 
The  colonel  lake  ole  Rastus  caze  ole  Rastus  save 

his  life ! 

An'  way  up  in  Mahsachusetts,  I  'd  nuffin'  else  ter  do 
But  sarve  de  deah  ole  colonel,  lake  I  'd  been  sarvin' 

you. 

Dey  done  tol'  me  dar  was  freedom  an'  dat  Slabery 

was  dead  ! 
But  de  diff 'ranee,  poo'  ole  Rastus  could  n't  quite  get 

thoo  his  head. 
Till  one  day  de  colonel  dyin',  leave  his  money  all 

ter  me ! 
It  was  den  I  knowed  ezac'ly  what 's  de  meanin'  — 

"  ter  be  free  !  " 

Fo'  my  heart  was  allus  longin'  jes  ter  go  back  home 

once  mo', 
An'  behoF  my  blessed  Mistus  callin'  "  Rastus,"  fum 

de  doo' ! 
Though  I  seed  a  heap  o'  ladies,  an'  some  on  'em 

pow'ful  fine, 
I  could  nevah  find  a  Mistus  dat  could   smile  as 

sweet  as  mine. 

Fo'  de  angels  boun'  ter  listen  as  de  wo'ds  come  out 

heh  mouth, 
Caze  dey  wants  ter  1'arn  de  di'lect  lake  dey  heahs 

it  in  de  South. 

An'  den  I  buys  a  ticket,  an'  takes  de  fastes'  cyars ; 
I  wastes  no  time  a-loafin'  er  a-puttin'  up  de  bars. 


Rastus 

I  dress  lake  some  poo'  niggah  —  in  dis  hyer  ragged 

suit  — 
So  de  robbahs  don't  suspicion  what  I  done  got  in 

my  boot. 
Dey  says  dars  heaps  o'  money  —  jes  how  much  I 

done  fo'git  — 
An'  now  my  deah  ole  Mistus  I 's  gwine  give  you  all 

on  it! 

You  gwine  keep  de  ole  plantation  un'erneaf  you' 

blessed  foot, 
Becaze  you  owns  ole  Rastus  wiv  de  money  in  his 

boot! 
Now  you  Mistus,  stop  you'  cryin' !    Dat  money 's  all 

fo'  you ! 
Fo'  I  wants  ter  sarve  you,  Mistus,  lake  I  allus  used 

ter  do. 

Dar  haint  no  'Mancipation  gwine  set  ole  Rastus 

free, 
Fo'  I  wah  bo'n  you'  niggah  an'  I 's  allus  gwine  ter 

be! 
Den  call  de  whole   plantation,  an'  de   neighbahs 

white  an'  black, 
An'  hab  a  celebration,  caze  ole  Rastus  done  come 

back! 


90 


BABY'S    HAND 

A     PUFFY  little  pillow  pad 
•**    That  makes  the  mother's  heart  so  glad, 
When  on  her  lips  't  is  gently  pressed 
To  throttle  speech  and  be  caressed  ; 
Till  mamma  thinks  she  'd  like  to  play 
Love's  cannibal  most  any  day  ! 
Ah,  none  but  she  can  understand 
How  soft  and  sweet  is  baby's  hand  I 

What  greater  joy  can  mother  seek?  — 
A  baby's  hand  on  either  cheek, 
Two  tender  lips  against  her  own 
In  sweetest  kiss  was  ever  known. 
She  will  not  sell  ?     Go  ask  her  why ! 
She  cannot  tell,  nor  you,  nor  I ! 
Not  all  the  wealth  at  your  command 
Could  buy  that  pink-tipped  baby  hand. 

No  limbs  so  weak,  yet  none  so  strong, 
Nor  voice  that  sings  a  sweeter  song. 
Although  a  tender  little  thing, 
The  babe  is  mightier  than  the  king : 
Great  men  and  nations  must  give  way ; 
The  monarch  would  with  baby  play. 
What  wise  men  willed  and  monarchs  planned 
Has  been  upset  by  baby's  hand. 


Baby's  Hand 

The  star  of  Bethlehem  seemed  to  be 

A  flash-light  from  eternity, 

To  guide  the  wise  men  to  the  place 

Where  lay  the  hope  of  all  the  race ; 

It  left  a  halo  where  it  fell 

Upon  the  babe  Immanuel ; 

While  all  the  host  of  glory  scanned 

A  world  redeemed  by  baby's  hand  I 


92 


SO  LITTLE    BILL   SAID 

T    ITTLE  Bill  said 

•*-^  'At  when  his  gran'pa  crossed  the  plains 
The  Mississippi,  swelled  by  rains, 
Was  'bout  as  big  as  Baffin  Bay ; 
He  could  n't  cross  no  other  way 
Essept  he  made  the  oxes  swim  — 
Of  course  the  oxes  minded  him  — 
An'  while  he  tended  to  the  sails 
They  steered  theirselves  jes  by  their  tails ! 
So  little  Bill  said. 

Little  Bill  said 
His  gran'pa  seed  the  buffalo 
From  where  he  was  to  Mexico  — 
The  biggest  herd  he  ever  heard  ! 
His  oxes  never  said  a  word, 
But  pitched  'em  off  on  either  side 
An'  rilled  the  air  with  buffalo  hide. 
To  steal  the  bison  would  n't  do. 
An'  so  his  oxes  hooked  a  few  ! 

So  little  Bill  said. 

Little  Bill  said 

His  gran'pa  met,  away  out  West, 
A  Indian  tribe,  in  war-paint  dressed, 

93 


So  Little  Bill  Said 

'At  reached  way  off  almost  a  mile, 
All  marchin'  at  him  single  file 
So  straight  he  could  n't  see  but  one, 
An*  so  he  up  an'  fired  his  gun  ; 
The  bullet  struck  the  big  chief's  head  — 
Went  through  'em  all  an'  killed  'em  dead ! 
So  little  Bill  said. 


Little  Bill  said 

His  gran'pa  met  a  polar  bear ; 
But  had  n't  any  bullets  there  ; 
So  put  a  peach-pit  in  his  gun 
An'  shot  the  bear,  but  off  he  run. 
Next  spring  his  gran'pa  went  that  way, 
An'  what  d'  ye  think  ?  —  as  sure  as  day, 
That  selfsame  bear  jumped  in  his  track  - 
A  peach-tree  bloomin'  in  his  back ! 

So  little  Bill  said. 

Little  Bill  said 

His  gran'pa  found  a  holler  tree 
A-leanin'  o'er  Yosemite  — 
He  hollered  in  the  tree,  no  doubt, 
An'  found  its  trunk  was  hollered  out  — 
A  tree  so  awful  big  an'  tall 
He  chopped  'er  down  an'  let  'er  fall ; 
An'  when  the  top  struck  t  'other  ridge, 
He  drove  his  oxes  through  the  bridge ! 

So  little  Bill  said. 

94 


So  Little  Bill  Said 

Little  Bill  said 

His  gran'pa  built  a  fly'n'-machine  — 
The  first  one  anybody  'd  seen  — 
An'  started  for  the  Pole,  but  found 
It  much  too  cold  for  flyin'  round ; 
An'  jes  as  he  got  almost  there 
The  thing  froze  fast,  right  in  the  air ; 
He  got  so  "  hot "  'at  he  thawed  loose, 
But  after  that  he  wa'  n't  much  use  ; 

So  little  Bill  said. 

Little  Bill  said 

His  gran'pa  thought  'at  some  folks  might 
Perhaps  believe  his  head  was  light 
A-talkin'  things  'at  was  n't  true ; 
But  other  folks  did  big  things  too  : 
For  Atlas  once  held  up  the  world, 
An'  Jupiter  the  lightnin'  hurled ; 
With  Gulliver  an'  Buffalo  Bill, 
To  prove  great  men  were  livin'  still ! 

So  little  Bill  said. 


95 


JUST   DROPPED   IN 


world  is  filled,  where'er  we  go, 
•*•     With  human  beings  we  don't  know, 
Who  likewise  never  seem  to  care 
Just  whom  we  are  or  how  we  fare  ; 
Yet  one  there  is,  beyond  a  doubt, 
We  all  have  seen  and  talked  about  : 
Who  wears  a  most  complacent  grin, 
And  calling,  says  :  "  I  just  dropped  in  !  " 

A  social  tramp  —  domestic  bore  — 

Has  often  called  at  every  door  ; 

He  's  so  polite  you  can't  refuse 

His  very  boldness  to  excuse. 

When  you  have  some  distinguished  guest, 

He  's  sure  to  come,  in  "  Sunday  best/' 

And  with  his  customary  grin 

Say  modestly  :  "  I  just  dropped  in  !  " 

You  'd  like  to  fix  a  tempting  rope 
Beneath  the  chandelier,  in  hope 
The  next  time  he  intruded  there, 
He  'd  mount  the  most  convenient  chair 
In  order  to  investigate  ; 
Then  "  loop  the  loop,"  permitting  Fate 
To  recompense  you  with  a  grin 
By  showing  how  he  "  Just  dropped  in  !  " 
96 


Just  Dropped  In 

His  invitations  are  so  rare 

When  Death  invites  he  '11  sure  be  there  ;  — 

Although  you  note,  with  sly  grimace : 

"  Some  one  will  come  to  take  his  place." 

"  At  last  he  's  welcome  !  "  people  say, 

Because  he 's  making  quite  a  stay ; 

And  o'er  his  grave  they  pause  and  grin, 

Where  some  one  carved  :  "  He  just  dropped  in  ! " 

This  much  we  guess,  at  any  rate, 
He  '11  slip  inside  the  Golden  Gate 
While  good  Saint  Peter's  back  is  turned 
And  —  what  his  conduct  never  earned  — 
Sit  down  in  some  exalted  nook, 
Tell  angels  fair  how  well  they  look, 
And  with  a  sweet,  ethereal  grin 
Inform  them  all :  "  He  just  dropped  in  1 " 


97 


IN   THE    RAIN 

T  MET  a  pretty  maiden  in  the  rain, 

•*•  And  my  heart  was  beating  such  a  wild  refrain. 

As  the  lucky  chance  befell, 

So  I  offered  my  umbrelP, 

And  my  courtesy  to  her  was  not  in  vain,  vain,  vain ; 
For  she  greeted  me  with  such  a  winning  smile 
And  her  pretty  cheeks  were  blushing  thanks  mean- 
while ; 

There  was  something  in  her  eye, 

Bright  and  handsome,  by  the  by, 
That  made  me  wish  the  journey  was  a  mile,  mile, 
mile! 

"  Pretty  lass,"  I  said,  «  O  my  ! 

Do  not  raise  your  dress  too  high, 
Or  the  little  drops  will  patter  on  your  shoe,  shoe, 
shoe!" 

"  If  your  duty,  sir"  said  she, 

"  Is  to  keep  the  rain  from  me, 
Casting  glances  at  my  foot  will  never  do,  do,  do  /" 

A  neck  that  would  defy  the  painter's  art : 
Charming  thing  to  separate  the  head  and  heart ; 

And  the  hand  within  my  arm 

Filled  my  senses  with  alarm 

In  the  fear  I  'd  never  get  the  twain  apart-part-part ! 
98 


In  the  Rain 

And  her  lips  were  like  the  cherries  wet  with  dew  ; 
So  delicious  one  must  stop  and  taste  a  few. 

But  there 's  nothing  to  compare, 

Neither  in  the  earth  nor  air, 
With  that  pretty  bit  of  nature  in  a  shoe,  shoe,  shoe ! 

A  charming  little  figure,  so  complete  ; 
Such  a  pretty  creature,  good  enough  to  eat ! 

Till  you  think  fond  Nature  must 

Use  extraordinary  dust 
When  creating  pretty  maidenhood  so  sweet,  sweet, 

sweet ! 

Then  I  told  her  that  her  ancestry  I  knew  — 
If  Old  Mother  Goose  in  history  was  true  : 

'T  is  a  pedigree  I  prize 

And  I  'd  give  my  very  eyes 
For  that  pretty  maiden  living  in  a  shoe,  shoe,  shoe  1 


99 


THE   WEAVERS 

world  is  a  loom  wherein  life  is  the  thread 
-*•     That  breaks  only  once  and  the  weaver  is  dead ! 
Through  the  warp  of  our  purpose  the  woof  of  each 

deed 
Must  fly  with  the  shuttle  though  poor  ringers  bleed. 

We  are  all  busy  weavers,  think  just  as  we  may; 
The  loom  will  keep  going,  the  shuttle  will  play : 
Fast  weaving  the  cloth  as  it  moves  right  and  left ; 
Or  useful  or  useless  depends  on  the  weft. 

Some    weaving    for   pleasure,    some    weaving    for 

nought, 

Unraveling  the  fabric  they  aimlessly  wrought ; 
The  one  seeking  pleasures  that  never  can  please ; 
The  other  in  idleness,  never  at  ease. 

Some  weavers  of  glory,  some  weavers  of  fame : 

If  the  cloak  prove  too  short  is  the  weaver  to  blame  ? 

Some   weave   for   the  lowly,  some  weave   for   the 

proud ; 
Some  working  a  lifetime  at  plaiting  a  shroud. 

Some   weave   to   keep   weaving,    with   life   in   the 

twist, 

And  fingers  get  worn  when  they  weave  to  exist ! 
100 


The  Weavers 

The  fabric  we  're  weaving  depends,  I  presume, 
Sometimes  on  the  weaver,  sometimes  on  the  loom. 

And  thus  we    keep  weaving  throughout   the   long 

years, 

Some  working  and  smiling ;  some  working  in  tears ; 
In  life's  great  exhibit  we  bring  what  we  may 
To  show  what  is  woven  —  Behold  the  display : 

The  costly,  the  useful,  the  showy,  the  plain ; 

Some  spotted  by  tears  as  if  left  in  the  rain ; 

Some   frayed   at   the  end    where   the  weaver   had 

stopped  — 
The  thread  being  broken,  the  worn  shuttle  dropped. 

There  tapestries  hang,  rich  in  figures  of  old, 
And  softest  of  velvets  embroidered  with  gold ; 
While   some    have    brought   silk   in    whose   bright 

colors  lie 
The  hues  of  the  sunset,  the  tints  of  the  sky : 

Fine  linen  as  white  as  the  cumulus  cloud ; 
Shall  it  serve  for  a  wedding  or  serve  as  a  shroud  ? 
Ah,  now  I  bethink  me  —  how  stupid  one  grows  — 
'T  is  doubtless  intended  for  soft  swaddling-clothes  ! 

The  delicate  touch  of  some  fingers  I  trace 
In  the  exquisite  web  of  yon  texture  of  lace, 
As  if  some  deft  spider  while  weaving  his  bed 
In  a  maze  of  strange  beauty  had  tangled  his  thread. 
101 


The  Weavers 

But  who  shall  play  censor  and  sit  at  the  bar 
To  determine  what  manner  of  weavers  we  are  ? 
And  yet  if  our  weaving  be  put  to  the  test  — 
Those  weaving  the  useful  are  weaving  the  best. 


1 02 


UNCLE   SAM   AND   JOHNNY 
BULL 

T  TNCLE  Sam  and  Johnny  Bull 

^    Went  out  one  day  and  got  so  full 

Of  friendly  admiration, 
They  swore  they  'd  never  fallen  out 
And  ne'er  again  would  brag  about 

Which  had  the  bigger  nation. 

Said  John  :  "  In  seventeen  seventy-six 
We  had  a  rawther  nawsty  mix 

About  some  bloomin'  tea : 
We  've  clean  forgot  the  blawsted  row  — 
Let 's  talk  about  alliance  now  !  " 

Said  Sam  :  "  Have  one  with  me ! 

"We  '11  strike  that  Anglo-Saxon  air 
The  race  is  singing  everywhere ; 

And  sing  it  while  we  quaff  — 
*  God  save  the  Queen  ! '  one  stanza  be  ! 
The  next,  <  My  Country,  'T  is  of  Thee  ! ' 

That  makes  it  'alf  and  'alf ! " 


HIDE-AND-SEEK 

\\  7  AY  back  among  the  childhood  joys, 

Where  fun  was  measured  by  the  noise, 
You  see  a  lot  of  barefoot  boys ; 

At  hide-and-seek  they  're  playing : 
The  one  must  seek,  the  rest  may  hide  — 
As  from,  the  row  they  step  aside, 
You  hear  the  leader  count  with  pride, 

His  rhythmic  lingo  saying : 

"  Ainee,  mainee,  monee,  mike  ! 
Barcelona,  mona,  strike! 
Air,  ware,froum,  wack  ! 
Alico,  balico,  calico,  whack  I 

One,  two,  three! 

Out  goes  he!" 

How  soon  these  boys  to  manhood  grow ; 
Again  they  're  standing  in  a  row ; 
They  carry  arms  —  to  battle  go ; 

Is  't  hide-and-seek  they  're  playing  ? 
And  as  they  march  into  the  fray, 
How  many,  many,  fall  away 
When  booming  cannon  join  the  play, 

This  rhythmic  lingo  saying  : 
104 


Hide  -  and  -  Seek 

"  Ainee,  mainee,  monee,  mike! 
Barcelona,  mona,  strike  ! 
Air,  ware,  frown,  wack  ! 
Alico,  balico,  calico,  whack  ! 

One,  two,  three! 

Out  goes  he!" 

And  later,  others  join  the  game :  — 
Ambition  hides,  and  wealth,  and  fame ! 
What  though  it  bear  some  other  name, 

'T  is  hide-and-seek  they  're  playing ! 
Though  death  may  hide  with  clod  and  clout, 
Kind  Heaven  will  find,  beyond  a  doubt, 
All  Father  Time  has  counted  out, 

His  rhythmic  lingo  saying : 

"  Ainee,  mainee,  monee,  mike! 
Barcelona,  mona,  strike  ! 
Air,  ware, frown,  wack! 
Alico,  balico,  calico,  whack! 

One,  two,  three! 

Out  goes  he!" 


105 


THE    MOCKING-BIRD 


flower  a  single  fragrance  gives, 
But  not  the  perfume  of  the  rest  ; 
Within  each  fruit  one  flavor  lives, 
Not  all  the  flavors  of  our  quest  ; 
In  every  bird  one  song  we  note 

That  seems  the  sweeter  without  words  ; 
Yet  from  the  mock-bird's  mellow  throat 
Come  all  the  songs  of  other  birds. 

Thou  graceful,  active,  handsome  thing 

To  please  the  eye  and  charm  the  soul  ; 
Thy  songs  no  other  bird  may  sing, 

Such  wondrous  notes  thou  dost  control  : 
Thou  canst  outsing  the  nightingale, 

The  lark,  the  thrush,  the  whippoorwill  ; 
To  hear  thee  far  outrun  their  scale, 

The  blithe  canaries  cease  their  trill. 

Why  should  we  call  thee  "  mocking-bird  "  ? 

So  sweet  thy  song,  so  full  and  free, 
Once  thy  enchanting  notes  are  heard, 

All  other  birds  seem  mocking  thee. 
Should  any  bird  his  song  forget, 

He  could  of  thee  that  song  relearn, 
And  singing  bolder,  richer  yet, 

Still  higher  praise  from  mortals  earn. 
1  06 


The  Mocking -Bird 

Within  thy  southern,  sunny  clime, 

Our  ears  enamored  of  thy  song, 
We  pause  to  listen  any  time 

And  give  thee  encore  all  day  long. 
Fair  wood-nymphs,  how  we  envy  thee 

Thy  moonlight  serenade  so  rare, 
Whene'er  the  mock-bird's  melody 

Is  poured  upon  the  midnight  air. 


107 


THE    COW -BELL 

\    SOUND  comes  to  the  barefoot  boy 
•**•     Across  the  pasture,  o'er  the  hill,  — 
That  future  memories  shall  enjoy, 

Be  what  he  may,  go  where  he  will :  — 
He  hears  the  cow-bell  far  away 

That  tinkles  while  the  cattle  browse ; 
However  far  their  feet  may  stray, 

It  tells  him  where  to  find  the  cows. 

A  poor  boy  grown  a  millionaire, 

With  naught  on  earth  he  may  not  buy ; 
While  pomp  and  splendor  shed  their  glare, 

Still  nothing  seems  to  satisfy. 
All  kinds  of  bells  he  owns  and  rings 

That  commerce  and  the  world  employs, 
Yet  nothing  but  the  cow-bell  brings 

His  soul  back  to  the  barefoot  joys. 

The  hardened  culprit  in  his  cell 

E'en  at  the  church  chime  gives  a  sneer ; 
But  some  one  clangs  an  old  cow-bell 

And  to  his  eye  there  comes  a  tear. 
He  's  back  in  gentle  childhood  now, 

A  mother's  hand  has  stroked  his  hair, 
Her  pardoning  kiss  is  on  his  brow, 

And  from  his  soul  there  comes  a  prayer. 
1 08 


The  Cow -Bell 

Not  much  of  a  bell 
Where  city  folks  dwell^ 
Nor  much  on  the  tone 
When  ringing  alone, 

But  for  taking  you  back  to  the  old  farm  scenes, 
Back  into  childhood  beyond  the  teens, 
It  knocks  all  others  to  smithereens  — 
That  old  cow-bell. 


109 


AN   OLD   BIBLE 

a  book,  so  worn  and  old  — 
With  broken  back  and  wrinkled  face  — 
That  under  its  rags  you  barely  trace 
The  sacred  story,  for  ages  told, 
Of  future  joys  not  bought  with  gold. 
And  yet  those  tattered  lids  embrace 
The  hope  of  all  the  human  race, 
Which  the  deaf  and  dumb  and  blind  may  hold 
Along  with  the  child  and  white-haired  sage. 
JT  is  greater  than  kings,  more  wise  than  seers ; 
The  compass  of  youth  and  comfort  of  age. 
And  who  shall  care  how  the  skeptic  sneers, 
When  behind  each  torn  and  grimy  page 
The  smiling  face  of  God  appears  ? 


THE   MARBLE -CUTTER'S   CHAT 

OOD  day,  John  Andrews  !    How  d  'ye  do  ?  " 

The  marble-cutter  lays  his  chisel  down, 
The  marble  chips  bestud  his  bare  arm  brown ; 
He  looks  the  stranger  through  and  through : 
"  Good  morning,  sir,  the  same  to  you ! 
You  Ve  rather  got  the  best  of  me,  young  man, 
Although  I  Ve  lived  here  since  the  town  began ! " 

"  I  read  your  name  upon  the  sign, 
And  judge  you  are  familiar  with  the  dead  — 
Through  them  you  gain  your  living,  be  it  said ; 

They  lay  their  last  pence  at  your  shrine ; 

Your  tablet  marks  the  human  line  — 
And  since  you  are  the  last  to  write  their  name, 
I  thought  you  'd  know  the  living  just  the  same. 

"  No  matter  what  my  name  may  be : 
Some  fifteen  years  ago  a  wayward  boy, 
For  something  wrong  he  'd  done,  lost  his  employ, 

Then  sought  his  fortune  on  the  sea,  — 

A  doubtful  venture  you  '11  agree ; 
Another  fact  which  rather  helped  his  going : 
His  mother  married  one  not  worth  the  knowing. 

"  T  is  best  perhaps  some  lives  should  part ! 
A  second  father  is  not  yours,  although 
in 


The  Marble -Cutter's  Chat 

A  loving  mother  strive  to  make  him  so ; 
A  man  may  hide  beneath  a  saintly  art 
The  meaner  motives  of  a  vicious  heart : 
In  fact  we  quarreled  in  a  month  or  more, 
And  out  he  drove  me  from  my  mother's  door. 

"  This  is  my  story,  very  brief ; 
I  've  come  back  rather  wealthy,  so  they  say, 
But  find  my  precious  mother  moved  away. 

The  cause  I  learned,  quite  past  belief, 

Was  hunger,  poverty  and  grief ! 
The  man  she  married  folks  called  Archer  Wells ;  — 
Sir,  can  you  tell  me  where  my  mother  dwells  ?  " 

"  Sit  down  beside  this  pyramid  ! 
Here,  on  the  blocks  where  lies  this  costly  shaft  1 " 
By  spreading  out  the  apron  of  his  craft 

The  name  he  chiseled  there  was  hid. 

The  stranger  sat  as  he  was  bid, 
Half  leaning  on  the  polished  marble  cold, 
To  catch  the  tale  the  marble-cutter  told : 

"  Go  back  a  dozen  years  or  so  — 
JT  is  there  my  story  should  begin,  I  think  — 
Your  stepfather,  you  know,  was  given  to  drink ! 
From  bad  to  worse  some  drinkers  go 
And  stagger  o'er  the  brink  of  woe  — 
In  yonder  sunken  grave's  neglected  spot 
Oblivion  made  his  bed,  unwept,  forgot  1 
112 


The  Marble  -  Cutter's  Chat 

"  He  squandered  all  your  mother's  wealth 
And  left  her  but  a  legacy  of  debts, 
Of  shame,  disgrace,  and  worse  than  vain  regrets ; 

With  broken  heart  and  broken  health, 

By  pity  of  the  commonwealth 
She  gained  admission  to  the  home  of  fate : 
My  daughter  found  her  at  the  poorhouse  gate. 

"  And  like  the  tender  soul  she  is, 
From  out  the  shadow  of  the  poorhouse  dome, 
That  blessed  angel  led  your  mother  home  : 

Our  lowly  roof,  though  humble  't  is, 

Was  ne'er  denied  to  one  of  His 
Who  needed  shelter,  lest  we  fail  to  share 
In  entertaining  angels  unaware. 

"  My  daughter  nursed  her  all  these  years 
And  gave  her  with  a  tender,  loving  care, 
The  choicest  viands  of  our  frugal  fare. 
Her  winning  smile,  which  always  cheers, 
Soon  robbed  your  mother  of  her  tears ; 
And  oft  together  they  have  asked  in  prayer 
The  wanderer's  return  —  and  here  you  are  ! 

"  Excuse  the  pauses  in  my  chat  — 
A  marble-cutter's  eyes  get  full  of  chips ; 
You  '11  hear  the  rest,   sir,  from  my  daughter's  lips  : 

Perhaps  you  won't  object  to  that ; 

'T  was  she  to  whom  you  raised  your  hat 
In  admiration  as  she  walked  apart  — 
A  sweeter  child  ne'er  blest  a  father's  heart  1 n 

113 


The  Marble  -  Cutter's  Chat 

The  stranger  clasped  the  hard,  rough  hand  :  — 
"  Go  first  and  tell  my  mother  I  am  here 
And  break  the  good  news  gently  in  her  ear ! 

Put  down  these  tools  !     Why  do  you  stand  ? 

Unfinished  leave  the  work  you  've  planned ! 
Take  half  my  wealth,  —  you  shall  not  say  me  nay, 
Nor  lift  a  hand  to  work  another  day  ! " 

The  marble-cutter  sobbed  and  said : 
"  Not  till  I  Ve  finished  this  one  tribute  rare  — 
My  daughter's  choosing  !  Raise  the  apron  there  ! 
You  '11  not  object  when  you  have  read 
The  name  that  tells  you  who  is  dead !  " 
And  half  suspecting,  tremblingly  he  came  : 
There,  on  the  marble,  was  his  mother's  name. 


114 


LEE  AT  APPOMATTOX 

T>  ED  war  had  sent  its  devastating  flood, 
•*^  And  left  a  nation  floundering  in  blood ! 

At  Appomattox,  when  the  war  was  done  — 
Each  soldier  leaning  on  his  silent  gun  — 

Stood  Robert  Lee  upon  that  famous  knoll 
And  bade  his  army  sign  the  long  parole. 

The  peerless  chieftain  keenly  felt  the  stroke, 
And  to  his  yielding  army  thus  he  spoke : 

"  Brave    comrades,    mine,    of    many   a  well-fought 

field,  - 
Scarred  veterans,  the  time  has  come  to  yield ! 

"  The  fates  declare  our  bleeding  cause  is  lost ; 
And  prove  rebellion  dear  at  any  cost ! 

"  We  fought  with  brothers,  —  men  as  brave  as  you ; 
In  number  and  resources  greater,  too. 

"  My  matchless  soldiers  ne'er  defeat  would  know 
With  other  cause  or  with  another  foe ! 

"  *  We  lost,'  yon  eagle  screams  it  from  the  crag, 
*  Because  we  fought  our  country  and  our  flag ! '  " 


Lee  at  Appomattox 

They  laughed  and  cried  and  clasped  each  other's 

hand  ; 
Both  armies  cheered  a  reunited  land. 

When  foes  turn  friends  they  fight  to  play  the  host, 
And  war  again  to  show  which  loves  the  most. 


116 


LEE   TO   THE   CONFEDERATE 
FLAG 


down  the  "  Stars  and  Bars  !  " 
Once  proudly  waved  from  battlement  and  fort, 
While  millions  cheered  and  thousands  gave  support, 

And  now  a  thing  of  scars 
It  droops  in  token  of  its  own  defeat, 
And  humbly  doth  its  honored  victor  meet. 

The  edict  has  been  said  : 
This  country  brooks  no  standard  but  its  own  i 
Let  this  one  live  in  memory  alone  ! 

Like  its  defenders  dead 
It  must  lie  buried  in  the  nation's  dust  ! 
'T  is  never  what  we  would,  but  what  we  must  ! 

Emblem  of  mortal  strife  — 
Its  stripes  were  cut  out  by  the  sabre  blade  ; 
In  human  blood  't  was  dyed,  in  discord  made  ; 

And  borne  where  war  was  rife 
In  constant  battle-smoke  without  surcease  ; 
It  never  knew  the  gentle  breath  of  peace  ! 

Flag  of  the  bleeding  South  — 
How  many  noble  souls  have  rushed  to  death, 
And  said  their  final  prayer  in  gasping  breath, 

With  dry  and  parched  mouth, 
117 


Lee  to  the  Confederate  Flag 

Through  holding  faith  in  thee  !  Their  closing  eyes 
Watching  their  banner  lowered  from  the  skies. 

Brave  men,  with  coats  of  blue  — 
Behold  these  gray  battalions  battle-worn  ! 
Behold  their  flag  in  smoke  of  battle  torn ! 

This  work  was  done  by  you ! 
Go,  count  the  slain !     On  every  field  they  lie  I 
Opinions  live,  while  their  defenders  die ! 

I  've  heard  an  army  cheer 
That  flag,  and  shout  above  the  cannon's  roar, 
And  rushing,  pile  their  dead  up  by  the  score 

Like  grain  sheaves,  tier  on  tier ; 
And  make  in  one  short  hour  a  world  of  woe, 
To  wrest  a  worthless  standard  from  the  foe  1 

Let  no  more  blood  be  shed ! 
Pull  down  the  flag !     'T  is  no  disgrace  to  yield  — 
Our  father's  flag  is  master  of  the  field ! 

Go,  spread  it  o'er  the  dead, 
Where  it  shall  mutely  our  sad  failure  tell 
To  those  brave  souls  who  fought  for  it  so  well. 

'T  is  painful  to  return 

To  ruined  homes,  where  mothers  sit,  and  wives, 
In  useless  tears,  bewailing  wasted  lives ; 

And  meekly  bid  them  learn 
That  nevermore  on  high  with  martial  strain 
That  flag  may  cleave  their  southern  breeze  in  twain. 
II* 


Lee  to  the  Confederate  Flag 

A  generous  victor  saith : 

Lay  down  your  guns  —  no  more  shout  war's  alarm ; 
Let  each  man  keep  his  horse  to  till  his  farm 

And  plough  the  field  of  death ! 
Wrap  those  who  fell  within  the  flag  they  bore ; 
For  us,  one  flag,  one  country  evermore. 

The  "  Stars  and  Bars  "  came  down  — 
The  certain  cause  of  fratricidal  war  — 
The  "  Stars  and  Stripes  "  they  raised  and  shouted 
for; 

Then  back  through  field  and  town, 
As  proudly  as  the  victors,  bore  it  thence, 
To  be  the  first  to  die  in  its  defense. 


119 


THE   MAN   AT   THE   FORGE 

T  TELL  you,  kind  sir,  the  heart  grows  sore 
•••  At  working  a  lifetime  for  nothing  more 

Than  to  live ; 

As  moulders  constantly  shovel  the  sand 
That  quickly  runs  out  by  a  shade  of  the  hand 

Through  the  sieve. 

'T  is  music  to  you  when  the  anvil  rings, 
But  labor  for  me  when  the  hammer  swings ; 

And  the  sweat 

Rolls  down  on  my  cheek  when  the  forge  is  hot ; 
For  you  have  riches  and  I  have  not, 

I  regret. 

From  under  the  hammer  there  flies  the  spark, 
While  out  of  the  window  I  hear  the  lark 

As  he  sings 

And  soars  away  to  the  neighboring  farms ;  — 
It  makes  me  wish  that  instead  of  these  arms 

I  had  wings. 

But  why  are  you  rich  and  I  left  so  poor  ? 

I  work  at  your  forge  till  I  'm  black  as  a  Moor 

With  the  smut, 

And  muscles  get  hard  as  the  hammered  steel, 
While  life  goes  on  like  the  lumbering  wheel 

In  a  rut. 

120 


The  Man  at  the  Forge 

My  lungs  are  much  like  the  bellows  there : 
Both  puff  at  the  forge  with  the  self-same  air, 

Rise  and  fall ; 

But  leather  and  lungs  are  the  same  to  you, 
And  failing  to  work  give  way  to  the  new, 

That  is  all. 

'T  is  work  and  worry  to  make  ends  meet : 
The  welding  requires  the  whitest  heat, 

As  you  know ; 

For  iron  must  sputter  before  it  will  join, 
And  wages  is  hardest  money  to  coin, 

Blow  by  blow. 

If  I  fall  sick  it  concerns  not  you ; 

Tbis  hammer  must  swing  when  there 's  work  to  do 

In  the  shop ; 

With  little  of  rest  when  the  muscles  tire, 
Till  hope  goes  out  like  the  unfed  fire 

When  I  stop. 

Perhaps,  by  and  by,  when  accounts  are  made, 
And  all  reckoned  up,  you  might  wish  to  trade  : 

Wealth  will  be 

So  hard  to  account  for,  and  then,  I  ween, 
The  great  balance  beam  will  reverse  between 

You  and  me. 


121 


I  CAN   LICK   ANY   BOY   IN   THE 
BLOCK 

T  AIN'T  very  much  on  beauty, 
•*•   An  ornery  sort  of  a  kid  ; 
I  'm  covered  with  warts  an'  freckles, 
An'  never  do  nothin'  I  'm  bid ; 
Sometimes  my  shoes  are  not  mated, 
Sometimes  there's  a  hole  in  my  sock; 
But  I  carry  a  chip  on  my  shoulder : 
I  can  lick  any  boy  in  the  block. 

I  ain't  very  much  on  study, 
An'  larnin  's  a  trifle  too  hard ; 
It 's  easier  wrestlin'  an'  fightin' 
An'  lickin'  the  boys  in  the  ward. 
The  teacher  jes  licks  me  fer  fighting 
An'  sometimes  fer  tellin'  him  lies : 
I  reckon  I  'd  give  him  a  tussle 
If  he  was  a  boy  o'  my  size. 

But  now  I  'm  as  mad  as  a  hornet, 
An'  layin'  fer  Billy  Duval ; 
I  '11  wipe  up  the  earth  with  his  carcass 
Fer  tryin'  to  gobble  my  gal  : 
He  give  her  a  bite  of  his  apple ; 
I  knew  it  an'  tried  to  keep  mum, 
But  I  could  n't  stand  it  no  longer 
When  he  gave  her  the  loan  of  his  gum. 
122 


CRAZY   PHIL 

(The  Prologue) 

\T7ITH  double  grace  had  heaven  bestowed  the 
*V  home 

Of  Philip  Moore.     Two  children,  motherless 
From  infancy,  had  grown  to  graceful  youth 
And  comely  form  ;   his  special  care  had  come 
To  be  his  special  joy.     The  daughter  was 
Most  beautiful ;  the  son  most  manly.      Oft 
Would  she  in  coyness  ask :  "  Which  do  you  love 
The   more  ? "     And   he :  "  Which  would   you  part 

with  first  ? " 

"  Why,  neither !  neither  !  "     Philip  would  reply  ; 
Then  hug  them  to  his  breast  and  punctuate 
His  love  with  kisses. 

There 's  no  temple  but 
Some  sacrilegious  thought  would  desecrate. 
Luke  Scott,  heir  of  ill-gotten  wealth,  first  won 
The  smiles  a  doting  father  ne'er  forbid,  — 
Made  purity  his  prey,  then  scoffed  at  love. 

The  brother  found  the  sister  in  the  stream, 
Then  turned  avenger  and  was  slain. 

And  when 

The  father  saw  them  dead  he  groaned  and  fell. 
A  wonder  't  is  grief  does  not  sometimes  kill,  — 
A  pity  too. 

123 


Crazy  Phil 

When  Philip  Moore  returned 
To  consciousness,  his  children  lay  asleep, 
Both  in  one  grave ;  he-  left  alone  with  grief. 
The  demon  had  confessed;  insanity 
Had  pleaded  as  the  cause. 

"  Where  is  the  poor 

Man's  justice  ? "    Philip  muttered.    "  Ah,  't  is  here  ; 
Insanity  's  a  game  that  two  can  play ! 
If  law  permit  the  lunatic  to  kill, 
Let  lunatics  be  executioners  ! 
And  if  insanity  will  shield  a  crime, 
Insanity  must  shield  the  crime's  revenge ! 
The  selfsame  cloak  that  hides  the  criminal 
Shall  hide  the  avenger.     Aye,  that  man  must  die !  " 
And  from  that  hour  he  feigned  insanity. 
All  pitied  him ;  and  children  through  the  town 
Ran  fearlessly  to  play  with  Crazy  Phil. 

(The  Play) 

"What!  here  again,  old  Crazy  Phil? 
Why  daily  beg  of  me  to  let  you  through 
These  doors  to  see  the  jail  ?     What  would  you  do 

If  I  should  grant  your  will  ? " 
"  First,  I  would  beg  a  match  to  light  my  pipe ; 
Invite  the  inmates  out  when  fruit  is  ripe ! 

"  By  discourse  of  a  fool 
'T  is  given  out :  babes  in  the  woods  one  day 
124 


Crazy  Phil 

Lost  hope  and  life ;  but  first  they  lost  their  way  ! 

They  should  have  been  at  school ! 
These  men  must  hang  !     Each  sent  to  me  in  hope 
I  'd  be  so  kind  as  make  a  nice  soft  rope. 

"So  I  have  brought  this  straw 
To  have  the  loops  by  measure  fit  their  throttles 
Like  wicker  work  about  the  neck  of  bottles, 

By  rule  as  well  as  law." 

The  jailor  spoke  :  "  Here  's  simple  Crazy  Phil ; 
Guards,  let  him  pass,  so  be  it  he  keep  still ! " 

He  goes  from  cell  to  cell 
With  quaint  disjointed  speech  ;  seeming  to  be 
The  harmless  victim  of  strange  lunacy, 

He  acts  his  part  so  well. 
Before  a  far-removed  cell  he  stops  ; 
Assured  he  's  unobserved,  his  mask  he  drops. 

"  So  I  am  here  at  last ! 

Good  morning,  Mister  Murderer,  good  morn ! 
Why  try  to  turn  away  from  me  in  scorn  ? 

Do  I  recall  the  past  ? 
I  '11  turn  this  panorama  of  your  crime ; 
But  leave  revenge  until  some  fitter  time ! 

"  I  Ve  come  to  make  you  think. 
Look,  here 's  my  precious  daughter,  pure  and  fair  ; 
Found  in  the  water ;  all  her  golden  hair 

Afloat  upon  the  brink. 
125 


Crazy  Phil 

The  river  drowned  her  in  its  pitying  tears 
To  find  her  blighted  in  her  tender  years. 

"  At  this,  her  loving  brother, 
The  reins  of  Justice  in  his  frenzied  grasp, 
Drove  at  you  for  revenge ;  your  poinard  asp . 

Stung  his  young  heart !     Another 
Poor  victim  at  your  door ;  I  found  this  dagger ; 
It  bore  your  name ;  the  load  made  reason  stagger. 

"  Too  much  for  one  humanity  ! 
When  reason  came,  you  had  confessed  the  crime ; 
Maintained  't  was  *  self-defense]  claimed  for  the  time 

A  species  of  insanity  ! 

Wealth  brought  delays,  and  wealth  will  set  you  free, 
Free  from  the  law,  from  all  the  world  but  me  ! 

"  For  fear  you  might  forget, 

Here 's  crime's  rehearsal  short  as  I  can  make  it  — 
This  dagger's  length  —  Oh,  no,  you  shall  not  take 
it!  — 

At  least,  kind  sir,  not  yet ! 
Through  craft,  to  others  I  am  '  Crazy  Phil !  ' 
But  Philip  Moore  to  him  I  mean  to  kill ! 

"  And,  if  you  doubt  me  sane, 
Gaze  here;  play  courtship  with  my  soulful  eye  ! 
You  cannot  ?     Then  by  other  testing  try 

To  mock  this  reasoning  brain 
That  sits,  like  Job  of  old,  from  all  apart, 
In  sackcloth  on  the  ashes  of  the  heart. 
126 


Crazy  Phil 

"  My  sweet  girl,  and  my  boy  1 
You  robbed  the  poor  with  gilded  blandishment, 
Stole  those  pet  lambs  from  out  the  shepherd's  tent, 

His  all  —  his  double  joy  ! 
I  'd  tear  you  limb  from  limb,  but  that  I  wait 
To  goad  you  with  the  agony  of  fate. 

"  See  Justice  stand  apart, 
With  chain  and  shackle  bound,  forged  from  your 

gold! 
The  clutches  of  the  law  let  go  their  hold ! 

But  here,  within  this  heart, 
There  sits  a  jury  gold  can  never  buy ! 
Adieu !  In  art  I  shall  with  actors  vie ; 
Insanity  's  the  play  wherein  you  die  ! " 

The  trial  o'er ;  Luke  Scott, 
Set  free,   came   down   the   court-house  steps   one 

.     morn ; 
Each  step  one  deeper  in  the  people's  scorn. 

"  Now  shall  thy  carcass  rot !  " 
Cried  Phil.      "  Good  citizens,  pray  stand  apart ; 
I  sheathe  this  dagger  in  its  owner's  heart ! 

"  T  was  thus  he  killed  my  boy  ! 
My  girl 's  avenged !    Friends,  with  me  do  your  will, 
I  'm  Philip  Moore ;  no  longer  '  Crazy  Phil ; ' 

My  madness  a  decoy  !  " 

And  yet  no  hand  would  stay,  no  voice  complain ; 
Nor  officer  put  on  the  prison  chain. 
They  smiling  said  :  "  Perhaps  he  was  insane  ! " 
127 


THE   DEACON'S    DRIVE 

OOD  Deacon  Jones,  although  a  pious  man, 
Was  not  constructed  on  the  meagre  plan ; 
And  he  so  loved  the  Sabbath  day  of  rest, 
Of  all  the  seven  deemed  it  far  the  best ; 
Could  he  have  made  the  year's  allotment  o'er, 
He  would  have  put  in  many  rest-days  more. 
One  Sunday  morn,  on  sacred  matters  bent, 
With  his  good  wife,  to  church  the  deacon  went. 
And  since  there  was  no  fear  of  being  late, 
The  horse  slow  jogged  along  his  Sunday  gait. 
This  horse  he  got  by  trading  with  a  Jew, 
And  called  him  Moses,  —  nothing  else  would  do. 
He  'd  been  a  race-horse  in  his  palmy  days, 
But  now  had  settled  down  to  pious  ways,  — 
Save  now  and  then  backsliding  from  his  creed, 
When  overtempted  to  a  burst  of  speed. 

'T  was  early,  and  the  deacon's  wife  was  driving, 
While  from  the  book  the  deacon  hard  was  striving 
On  sacred  things  to  concentrate  his  mind  — 
The  sound  of  clattering  hoofs  is  heard  behind; 
Old  Mose  pricked  up  his  ears  and  sniffed  the  air ; 
The  deacon  mused  :  "  Some  racers,  I  declare  ! 
Fast  horse,  fast  man,  fast  speeds  the  life  away, 
While  sluggish  blood  is  slow  to  disobey  ! " 
128 


The  Deacon's  Drive 

He  closed  the  book ;  he  'd  read  enough  of  psalms  — 
And,  looking  backward,  spat  upon  his  palms, 
Then   grabbed   the   sagging  reins :    "  Land   sakes 

alive ! 
It 's  late,  Jerushee,  guess  I  'd  better  drive  !  " 

The  wife  suspects  there  's  something  on  his  mind ; 

Adjusts  her  spectacles  and  looks  behind : 

"  Pull  out,  good  Silas,  let  that  sinner  past 

Who  breaks  the  Sabbath  day  by  drivin'  fast ! 

What  pretty  horses  ;  he  's  some  city  chap ; 

My,  how  he  drives ;  he  '11  meet  with  some  mishap  ! 

Be  quick  thar,  Silas ;  further  to  the  side  ; 

He  's  comin' ;  thank  the  Lord  the  road  is  wide ! 

Jes  look  at  Mose ;  if  he  ain't  in  fer  war ! 

Say,  Silas,  what  on  earth  you  bracin'  for  ? 

Old  man,  have  you  forgot  what  day  it  is  ? " 

"  Git  up  thar,  Mose  !  Jerushee,  mind  yer  biz  !  " 

"  Upon  my  soul,  look  how  that  nag 's  a-pacin' ; 

Why,  Silas,  dear,  I  do  believe  you  're  racin' ! 

Land  sakes  alive,  what  will  the  people  say  ? 

Good  Deacon  Jones  a-racin',  Sabbath  day ! " 

"  Jerushee,  now  you  hold  yer  pious  tongue, 
And  save  yer  voice  until  the  hymns  are  sung ! 
Make  haste  unto  the  Lord ;  that 's  the  command ; 
We  're  bound  fer  church  —  I  trust  you  understand  1 " 
"  But  goin'  to  church,  good  Silas,  racin'  so, 
Will  bring  us  into  heaven  mighty  slow !  " 
129 


The  Deacon's  Drive 

"  Hush  up,  Jerushee,  else  you  '11  make  us  late ; 
Gelong  thar,  Moses  —  strike  yer  winnin'  gait! 
God  gave  him  speed  and  now  's  his  time  to  show 

it; 
If  that 's  a  sin,  I  never  want  to  know  it." 

A  loving  wife  to  acquiescence  used, 
Jerusha  soon  begins  to  get  enthused. 
Said   she :    "  Don't   leave   the    church   folk   disap- 
pointed, 

Nor  let  the  ungodly  beat  the  Lord's  anointed ! " 
"  You  're  right,  Jerushee,  thar  yer  head  is  level, 
In  life's  long  race  the  saint  must  beat  the  devil ; 
Though  on  this  Hebrew  horse  depend  we  must 
To  keep  the  Christian  from  the  sinner's  dust. 
That 's  right,  Jerushee,  give  old  Mose  the  birch, 
Fer  here  's  a  race  :  The  world  ag'in'  the  church ; 
Both  Testaments  are  at  it  fer  their  lives  — 
The  Old  one  pacin'  while  the  New  one  drives ; 
And  Satan  's  found  at  last  all  he  can  do 
To  tackle  both  the  Gentile  and  the  Jew." 

The  stranger's  horses  come  at  such  a  pace 
They  dash  ahead  as  if  to  take  the  race. 
"  The  jig  is  up,  Jerushee  ;  guess  he  '11  beat ; 
He 's  in  the  lead  and  Mose  is  off  his  feet." 
"  What  talk  is  that  ?  Now,  Silas,  don't  you  scoff ; 
How  can  he  jig  if  all  his  feet  are  off  ? 
And  now  you  say  he  's  struck  his  gait  at  last, 
I  feared  he  'd  strike  on  suthin',  goin'  so  fast." 
130 


The  Deacon's  Drive 

The  stranger  cries :  "  Come  on,  old  Sanctimony, 
Old  wife,  old  wagon,  and  old  rack-a-bony  ! " 
Jerusha's  dander  's  up  ;  Jerusha  's  mad ; 
She  grabs  her  bonnet  and  applies  the  gad. 
And  Mose  at  last  has  struck  his  old-time  speed; 
For  once  the  Jew  and  Gentile  are  agreed, 

Around  the  church  the  gathered  country  folk 

Observe :  "  The  Sabbath  day  is  bein'  broke." 

With  eager  eye  and  half-averted  face, 

Though  some  condemn,  yet  all  observe  the  race. 

"  Land  sakes  !  "  cries  one,  "  I  '11  bet  ye  ten  t'  tew 

It 's  Deacon  Jones  a-drivin'  that  ar  Jew." 

"  I  can't  bet  much,  but  here 's  my  life  upon  it  — 

That  thar  's  Jerushee  —  know  her  by  the  bonnet !  " 

Along  the  dusty  road  the  horses  speed, 

And  inch  by  inch  old  Moses  takes  the  lead. 

Jerusha  gets  excited,  now  she  's  winning, 

And  all  her  former  anger  dies  a-grinning. 

"  Come  on,  old  Disbelief,  old  Satan's  crony, 

Don't  lag  behind  on  any  ceremony  ! 

Take  my  advice :  Before  you  give  much  sass 

Jes  turn  yer  horses  out  on  Sunday  grass." 

Old  Mose  had  forged  ahead  at  such  a  rate 
The  deacon  could  n't  stop  him  at  the  gate ; 
The  more  he  pulled  the  faster  Mose  would  go ; 
Jerusha  grabbed  one  line  and  hollered :  "  Whoa  !  " 
Which  swung  him  in ;  the  buggy  with  a  crash, 
Swinging  against  the  horse-block,  went  to  smash. 


The  Deacon's  Drive 

The  pastor  said :  "  I  hope  you  broke  no  bones, 

Although  you  broke  the  Sabbath,  Deacon  Jones.7' 

"  Don't  blame  this  onto  Sile,"  Jerusha  said : 

"  But  on  that  hoss  ;  you  know  he  's  Jewish  bred, 

An'  won't  do  nothin'  Saturday  but  rest ; 

On  Sunday  he  breaks  loose  like  all  possessed. 

At  least  we  're«here  and  safe,  therefore  rejoice, 

But  I  shall  sing  no  more,  I  Ve  strained  my  voice !  " 

"  I  thought  't  would  break,"  they  heard  the  pastor 

say, 
"  It  has  been  cracked  for  many,  many  a  day." 


132 


THE  FRENCHMAN   AND   THE 
DICTIONARY 


I 


AM  a  Frenchman  from  Paree, 
I  sail  on  top  the  ocean  : 
"  Go  -on  the  board  !  "  they  tell  to  me ; 

I  like  me  not  the  notion : 
Sail  on  a  leetle  board,  —  Oh,  no ! 

I  much  prefer  the  steam aire  ! 
They  call  me  "  Lobstaire  "  while  they  laugh, 
And  make  of  me  blasphemaire. 
I  then  compare 
The  great  Webstaire  — 
I  look  me  in  the  dictionnaire  :  — 
L-o-b-s-t-e-r  —  lobstaire :  A    large    long-tail  crusta- 
cean, use  for  the  food ;  eh  bien  ! 

Perhaps  I  am  ;  I  cannot  tell ; 
I  understand  not  vairee  well ! 

The  passengaire  get  vairee  seek 

And  hang  across  the  railing ; 
"  Heave  to !  "  I  hear  the  sailor  speak  — 

I  do  so  without  failing. 
They  cry  :  "  Frenchman,  bravissimo  ! 

Done  well,  and  to  the  lettaire ; 
When  up  your  ancestor  you  throw 

You  manage  to  feel  bettaire  !  " 

133 


The  Frenchman  and  the  Dictionary 

I  then  compare 
The  great  Webstaire  — 
I  look  me  in  the  dictionnaire :  — 
A-n-c-e-s-t-o-r  —  ancestor — forefathaire  :     I    must 
throw  up  my  forefathaire ;  one,  two,  three,  four.     I 
have  throw  up  but  one  already ;  three  more  to  come 
—  O  mon  Dieu  ! 

Perhaps  I  may,  I  cannot  tell ; 
I  understand  not  vairee  well ! 

I  tell  the  mastaire  of  the  sheep  — 

Le  capitaine  most  civil  — 
"  You  shall  pay  back  what  I  not  eat ! " 

He  say  :  "  Go  to  the  devil !  " 
I  ask  :  "  Where  ees  that  officaire  ? " 

He  shake  the  sheep  weez  laughtaire, 
And  say :  "  Hees  watch  ees  down  below ; 
You  find  monsieur  hereaftaire  !  " 
I  then  compare 
The  great  Webstaire  — 
I  look  me  in  the  dictionnaire :  — 
D-e-v-i-l  —  the  fat  hair e  of  lies :    Then   Monsieur 
Capitaine,  he  is  your  fathaire  ?  and  I  shall  be  intro- 
duce hereaftaire  ! 

Perhaps  I  may,  I  cannot  tell ; 
I  understand  not  vairee  well ! 

While  sitting  on  the  deck  one  night, 

A  sweet  young  bride  so  chubby 
Come  kees  and  kees  me  weez  all  her  might ; 

She  take  me  for  her  "  hubby." 

134 


The  Frenchman  and  the  Dictionary 

I  ask  her  to  apologize 

Weech  drive  her  to  deestraction ; 
Her  husband  come,  weez  much  surprise, 
Demand  my  satisfaction ! 
I  then  compare 
The  great  Webstaire  — 
I  look  me  in  the  dictionnaire :  — 
S-a-t-i-s-f-a-c-t-i-o-n  —  satisfaction  :  To  be  satisfy :  to 
have  quite  enough. 

Perhaps  I  had,  I  cannot  tell ; 
I  understand  not  vairee  well ! 

At  first  I  tip  the  cabin  boy, 

Then  tip  the  steward,  winking ; 
I  tip  the  officaire  my  cap, 

He  tip  the  glass  for  drinking ; 
And  every  wave  ees  tip  weez  foam ; 

The  boat  himself  ees  tipping. 
No  waitaire  tip,  —  he  tip  the  soup 
And  leave  your  garments  dripping. 
I  then  compare 
The  great  Webstaire  — 
I  look  me  in  the  dictionnaire  :  — 
T-i-p  —  tip :  To  give  away  the  money :  to  pay  twice 
for  the  same  thing :  to  pay  the  wages  of  othaire  peo- 
ptts  servants  ! 

Perhaps  I  did,  I  cannot  tell ; 
I  understand  not  vairee  well ! 


135 


DANDY    DEWEY 

•• 

TT  7E  the  pretty  mermaids  know 

Dandy  Dewey. 
E'en  the  devil  down  below 

Heard  of  Dewey. 
Killed  so  many  Dons  that  day 
Fighting  in  Manila  Bay, 
Even  Satan  had  to  say : 

"  Dandy  Dewey." 

You  were  itching  for  a  chance, 

Dandy  Dewey, 
To  attend  a  Spanish  dance, 

Dandy  Dewey, 

And  your  gunners  played  so  well 
That  the  dancing  shot  and  shell 
Waltzed  their  ships  below,  pell-mell, 

.  Dandy  Dewey ! 

It  was  on  the  first  of  May, 

Dandy  Dewey, 
Was  it  Retribution  Day, 

Dandy  Dewey  ? 

Rather  tough  on  poor  old  Spain, 
But  somehow  the  sailor's  brain 
Keeps  remembering  the  Maine, 

Dandy  Dewey ! 

136 


Dandy  Dewey 

9  T  was  a  message  short  and  sweet, 

Dandy  Dewey : 
"  Take  or  sink  the  Spanish  fleet !  " 

Dandy  Dewey! 

Well  you  followed  out  the  plan, 
Losing  neither  ship  nor  man ; 
But  the  awful  risk  you  ran, 

Dandy  Dewey ! 

Stealing  up  Manila  Bay, 

Dandy  Dewey, 
Where  the  dread  torpedoes  lay, 

Dandy  Dewey, 

With  the  darkness  like  a  pall, 
Knowing  not  what  might  befall, 
Was  the  bravest  deed  of  all, 

Dandy  Dewey. 

Will  the  story  e'er  be  told, 

Dandy  Dewey, 
Of  the  tars  and  gunners  bold, 

Dandy  Dewey, 

How  they  swept  the  water  clean, 
Till  the  Spanish  now,  I  ween, 
Have  a  navy,  sub-marine, 

Dandy  Dewey  ? 

As  the  ships  came  down  below, 

Dandy  Dewey, 
Mermaids  shouted  up  :  "  Hello  ! 

Dandy  Dewey!" 

137 


Dandy  Dewey 

We  had  all  the  news  ahead ;  — 
We  the  cable  message  read : 
"  Take  the  fleet  alive  or  dead," 
Dandy  Dewey ! 

Now  Manila  's  lost  a  letter, 

Dandy  Dewey  — 
Does  it  sound  in  English  better, 

Dandy  Dewey  ? 

When  henceforth  the  name  be  writ, 
Change  the  spelling  just  a  bit ; 
For  you  knocked  "  1 "  out  of  it, 

Dandy  Dewey ! 

Spain  once  ruled  o'er  half  the  earth, 

Dandy  Dewey ; 
She  is  now  of  little  worth, 

Dandy  Dewey; 
Having  lost  her  occupation, 
She  's  another  old-time  nation 
Living  on  her  reputation, 

Dandy  Dewey. 

All  the  mermaids  loudly  claim 

Dandy  Dewey 
Is  most  worthy  of  his  fame ! 

Dandy  Dewey 

Has  been  crowned  by  acclamation : 
"  Naval  hero  of  the  nation  !  " 
None  can  claim  a  higher  station, 

Dandy  Dewey. 
138 


THE   SOUTHERN    BELLE 

TT7HO  can  describe  the  Southern  Belle, 

*  *      Or  even  half  her  glory  tell, 
When  rhyme  and  reason  go  pell-mell 

In  floods  of  strong  emotions  ? 
While  gazing  in  her  wondrous  eyes, 
Where  all  the  tempting  lustre  lies, 
You  get  confused  in  sweet  surprise 

And  wander  in  your  notions. 

Who  sent  the  critic  to  the  school 
To  measure  beauty  by  the  rule 
Which  pretty  girls  may  ridicule 

And  Cupid  call  high  treason  ? 
Most  any  lover  will  confess 
There  are  some  eyes  a  power  possess 
To  look  one  out  of  consciousness 

And  clean  upset  his  reason. 

In  liquid  eyes  of  limpid  brown 

The  gazing  youth  would  straightway  drown, 

But  Cupid  pulls  the  lashes  down ; 

And  coyly  peeping  under, 
Bids  him  in  that  short  leisure  note 
How  nature  forms  the  graceful  throat 
That  makes  admiring  painters  gloat 

And  sculptors  pause  in  wonder. 

139 


The  Southern  Belle 

Let  eyes  be  brown  or  eyes  be  blue, 
There 's  little  choice  betwixt  the  two ; 
A  thrill  of  ecstasy  goes  through 

The  one  on  whom  they  linger. 
Whatever  crown  she  chance  to  wear, 
Or  dark,  or  gold,  or  auburn  hair, 
You  bow  ;  and  wonder  if  you  dare 

Caress  the  tapered  finger. 

How  oft  the  voice  of  childhood  cries : 
"  Open  your  lips  and  close  your  eyes, 
I  '11  give  you  that  will  make  you  wise ! " 

Now  that  the  youth  is  older, 
Dared  he  the  same  request  to  make, 
All  thought  of  giving  he  'd  forsake, 
Guessing  how  many  he  would  take  !  — 

Were  he  a  trifle  bolder  ! 

Such  sweet  enchantment  in  her  style, 
With  every  movement  queenly  ;  while 
The  Southern  sunshine  in  her  smile 

Impels  to  adoration ! 
Her  voice  is  music  soft  and  clear, 
Her  dialect  so  charms  the  ear, 
That  angels  pause,  when  they  come  near, 

To  catch  her  conversation. 


140 


STONEWALL   JACKSON 

TF  you  are  one  of  the  "  Old  Brigade," 

•*•  Who  learned  the  marching  and  fighting  trade 

Of  that  great  soldier,  I  command 

That  you  sit  down  and  let  me  stand 

And  listen  to  all  you  've  got  to  tell  ! 

For  none  may  know  a  hero  so  well 

As  one  who  followed  him  into  the  fray ; 

So  load  up  your  heart  and  fire  away ; 

There  '11  never  be  doubt  of  a  word  you  say 

Of  "  Stonewall "  Jackson. 


You  're  a  gentleman,  sir !     At  the  very  start 
You  Ve  opened  the  door  to  a  Southron's  heart ! 
For  he  was  the  idol  of  Sunny  South  ! 
His  magical  deeds  were  in  every  mouth ! 
His  soldiers  thrilled  at  his  very  name ! 
When  down  the  line  the  invincible  came, 
We  could  always  trace  him  along  the  route 
By  the  lusty  cheer  and  the  swelling  shout ; 
For  the  hats  went  off  and  the  "  yell "  rang  out 
For  "  Stonewall "  Jackson. 

He  was  a  general  born  and  bred ; 
And  there  was  n't  a  soul  of  the  thousands  he  led 
141 


Stonewall  Jackson 

Who  wouldn't  have  followed  him  anywhere  — 
That  peerless  soldier,  with  martial  air  — 
As  he  rode  "  Old  Sorrel "  along  the  van, 
Enthusing  his  men  ere  the  battle  began ; 
For,  catching  the  fire  of  his  flashing  eye, 
As  the  swordless  hand  was  waving  on  high, 
They  needed  no  other  battle-cry 

Than  "  Stonewall "  Jackson. 

A  faultless  commander  from  top  to  toe  1 

He  would  n't  sit  down  to  await  the  foe, 

But  would  strike  him  on  march  or  the  tented  field, 

Where  the  foe  must  fly,  or  the  foe  must  yield. 

His  movements  were  like  to  the  meteor's  flash ; 

His  infantry  moved  with  a  cavalry  dash. 

There  never  was  general  more  revered, 

Nor  by  his  soldiers  more  heartily  cheered, 

Nor  by  the  foemen  more  justly  feared, 

Than  "  Stonewall "  Jackson. 

A  man  so  great  that  he  seemed  to  be 
The  pride  and  the  pattern  of  modesty ! 
As  gentle  in  camp  as  a  timid  girl, 
But  a  lion  at  rage  in  the  battle's  whirl ! 
Meek  servant  of  God  in  his  prayer  at  night, 
But  the  king  of  terrors  next  day  in  the  fight ; 
In  extremes  of  thought  his  emotions  ran  — 
From  his  baby's  fingers  to  the  battle's  plan ; 
A  prayer  to  Jehovah  —  then  into  the  van 

Rode  "  Stonewall "  Jackson, 
142 


Stonewall  Jackson 

His  soldiers  worshiped  him,  for  they  knew 

He  could  plan  campaigns  and  carry  them  through. 

His  keen  eye,  sweeping  the  battlefield, 

Would  catch  at  a  glance  where  the  foe  must  yield. 

So  often  was  victory  snatched  from  defeat, 

His  buglers  forgot  how  to  sound  the  "  retreat !  " 

'T  was  he  at  Manassas  who  held  the  Gray 

Like  a  wall  of  stone,  where  he  saved  the  day ! 

And  earned  that  immortal  sobriquet 

Of  "  Stonewall  "  Jackson. 


Fresh  with  the  honors  of  Winchester  came 

The  laurels  of  Richmond,  and  martial  fame  ! 

A  mighty  Colossus,  he  stood  on  the  height 

Of  Fredericksburg  !     Galloping  into  the  fight, 

With  Victory  holding  his  bridle-rein, 

The  tide  of  the  battle  turned  back  on  the  plain ! 

Till  it  seemed  the  Almighty  became  aware, 

If  Heaven  would  ever  this  Union  spare, 

It  must  stop  the  fighting  and  stop  the  prayer 

Of  "  Stonewall  "  Jackson. 

There  never  was  mortal  could  so  inspire 

The  breast  of  the  brave  with  that  frenzied  fire 

That  impels  men  on  with  resistless  sway 

And  makes  them  invincible  in  the  fray ! 

And  him  were  the  soldiers  accustomed  to  hail 

"Their  Monarch  of  Battles,  who  never  could  fail!" 

For  always  in  battle  the  tide  he  turned ! 

143 


Stonewall  Jackson 

And  not  till  his  death  was  his  value  learned ! 
Then  Victory  fled,  while  Dixie  yearned 

For  "  Stonewall "  Jackson. 

This  martial  genius,  with  masterful  skill 

In  strategy,  conquered  at  Chancellorsville ! 

But,  just  as  the  victors  to  joy  gave  breath, 

From  the  soldiers   he  loved  came  the  missile  of 

death. 

Mischance  never  aimed  a  more  sorry  dart ; 
Lee  lost  his   right    arm,  and    the    South   lost   her 

heart ! 

Then  "  Let  us  pass  over  the  river  and  rest 
In  the  shade  of  the  trees  !     For  God  knows  best !  " 
And  the  great  soul  leaped  from  the  mortal  breast 
Of  "  Stonewall  "  Jackson. 


144 


THE   FRENCHMAN'S   SPIDER 
AND   THE   FLY 


spidaire  weave  hees  web  one  day  ; 

Mees  Fly  come  buzzing  long  that  way  ; 

The  spidaire  speak  — 

And  blush  her  cheek  : 

"  You  should  not  roam, 

But  have  a  home 
Of  lace  so  beautiful,  Mees  Fly, 
It  match  the  jewel  of  your  eye." 

Mees  Fly  she  walk  just  so  ; 
The  spidaire  very  slow  ; 

The  spidaire  sigh  ; 

She  drop  her  eye, 

Turning  oblique, 

Powdaire  the  cheek  ; 
Then  rapidly  her  feet  she  fling  ; 
He  rubber-neck,  she  rub  her  wing. 

"  Since  I  long  time  your  beauty  know, 
I  build  for  you  this  gran'  chateau." 

Mees  Fly,  she  say  : 

"  I  must  not  stay  ! 

We  nevaire  met  !  " 

He  say  :  "  An'  yet 

H5 


The  Frenchman's  Spider  and  the  Fly 

I  dine  with  many  of  your  kin ; 

Let  me  present  myself  !  —  walk  in  !  " 

Mees  Fly  she  feel  so  compliment 
To  own  the  house  an'  pay  no  rent ; 

Right  proud  she  grow, 

An'  fond  of  show ; 

She  not  believe 

He  can  deceive ; 

An'  when  the  spidaire  stroke  her  chin, 
She  's  captivate  —  an'  walk  right  in  ! 

Before  she  can  enjoy  the  place, 
Her  feet  get  tangle  in  the  lace : 

Entrap  is  she 

Through  vanitee ! 

Then  she,  too  late, 

Bemoan  her  fate. 
With  flatteree  that  he  supply 
The  spidaire  always  catch  the  fly ! 


GENERAL    HANCOCK 

TTARD  by  the  nation's  temple  of  fame, 

•••  •*•  Where  sleep  the  great  in  deed  and  name, 

Liberty  strides  with  solemn  tread, 

Eternal  guard  of  the  treasured  dead. 

Outside  on  tessellated  floor, 

Outside  the  walls  with  golden  door, 

Her  sentry  step  the  nation  hears, 

In  measured  beat  through  waiting  years ; 

To  watch  the  gate,  her  constant  care, 

That  only  the  great  may  enter  there. 

From  Governor's  Island,  cannons  boom 
Salute  unto  the  fallen  plume ; 
The  fortress  flag  is  lowered  half, 
And  drooping,  clings  the  barren  staff ; 
The  sword  is  sheathed  and  laid  aside ; 
The  silent  barge  floats  down  the  tide,  — 
Down  to  the  nation's  temple  of  fame, 
The  speechless  helmsman  guides  the  prame. 

The  barge  is  moored  at  Fame's  green  isle, 
The  catafalque  removed  the  while  — 
Brave  soldiers,  craped,  with  arms  reverse, 
Upon  their  shoulders  —  human  hearse  — 
With  muffled  drum  and  mournful  air, 
The  casket  of  their  chieftain  bear. 

H7 


General  Hancock 

Up  that  same  path  where  late  they  came, 
Up  to  the  nation's  temple  of  fame. 

The  goddess  sees  the  solemn  train, 
And  o'er  the  music's  sad  refrain 
Cries  to  the  mourning  leaders :  —  "  Stay  ! 
Set  down  the  corse  !  what  seek  ye,  pray  ? 
Do  ye  not  know,  who  bear  the  bier, 
None  but  the  great  may  enter  here  ? 
And  who  is  this  for  whom  ye  claim 
Eternal  rest  in  temple  of  fame  ? " 

"  This  is  the  fame  our  hero  has : 
At  Churubusco,  Contreras, 
A  youthful  soldier  awed  the  foe, 
In  stubborn  war  with  Mexico ; 
At  San  Antonio  'twas  he 
Who  bore  the  palm  of  bravery. 
Then  open  the  gate  to  him  who  came 
Up,  step  by  step,  to  temple  of  fame ; 

"  Our  captain  heard,  in  Sixty-one, 
War's  fierce  alarm  from  Sumter's  gun ; 
At  Williamsburg,  the  soldiers  say, 
'T  was  his  fierce  charge  that  won  the  day. 
South  Mountain,  with  Antietam's  field, 
Proved  him  a  soldier  would  not  yield. 
Deeds  stalwart,  fitting  stalwart  frame, 
Earn  him  the  right  to  temple  of  fame. 
148 


General  Hancock 

"At  Gelding's  Farm  and  Garnett's  Hill; 
At  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville  ; 
At  Savage  Station,  Marye's  Height, 
We  found  him  in  the  hottest  fight 
At  Spottsylvania,  Wilderness, 
Cold  Harbor,  Petersburg,  no  less : 
These  give  our  hero  lasting  name ! 
Then  open  the  gate  to  temple  of  fame. 

"  T  was  he  held  Cemetery  Ridge, 

That  made  for  victory  a  bridge ; 

When  to  his  breast  he  held  the  targe 

That  stopped  great  Pickett's  madd'ning  charge 

On  doubtful  field,  he  won  by  far 

The  grandest  victory  of  the  war, 

And  gave  to  Gettysburg  a  name 

That  wins  his  right  to  temple  of  fame. 

"  The  casket  lies  uncovered  there ; 
That  noble  face,  the  silvered  hair, 
Proclaim  to  all,  in  accents  mute, 
Great  virtue,  rarer  attribute 
Than  tales  of  valor  you  may  hear  — 
Great  goddess,  bid  us  raise  the  bier, 
And  to  this  one  of  spotless  name 
Pray  ope  the  gate,  warden  of  fame." 

"  This  door  is  only  for  the  great, 
Whose  deeds  we  would  perpetuate ; 
149 


General  Hancock 

Twice  has  it  opened  in  the  year  — 
For  Grant's  and  for  McClellan's  bier ; 
And  now  again,  the  nation  saith : 
As  once  in  life,  so  e'en  in  death, 
'T  is  fit  that  he  should  follow  Grant, 
Like  a  true  soldier,  militant ;  " 
And  now  the  goddess  speaks  once  more, 
As  slowly  swings  the  golden  door : 
"  To  all  the  world  I  now  proclaim, 
Hancock  shall  have  eternal  fame." 


150 


THE   DOG   SALE 

LD  Rover  once  said  to  his  f row  — 

Bow,  wow ! 
We  Ve  got  too  much  family  now  — 

Bow,  wow ! 
So  pick  every  pup 
You  would  sooner  give  up 
And  we  '11  sell  them  at  auction  somehow  - 
Bow,  wowl 

There 's  Don  with  a  musical  bark  — 

Bow,  wow ! 
And  Fannie  so  fond  of  a  lark  — 

Bow,  wow ! 
With  Towser  at  play, 
Who  sleeps  all  the  day 
But  watches  all  night  in  the  dark  — 
Bow,  wow ! 

The  twins  that  we  can't  tell  apart  — 

Bow,  wow  ! 
And  two  so  unlike  from  the  start  — 

Bow,  wow ! 

Bulldozer  for  running, 
And  Carlo  for  gunning, 
And  Bob  for  the  little  boy's  cart  — 
Bow,  wow ! 


The  Dog  Sale 

There  's  Tiger  so  homely  and  grave  — 

Bow,  wow ! 
But  never  a  dog  was  more  brave  — 

Bow,  wow ! 
With  Tiny  and  Mix, 
Who  can  do  all  the  tricks, 
And  Spry  who  can  buffet  the  wave  — 
Bow,  wow  ! 

Seeing  tears  in  the  eyes  of  his  f row  — 

Bow,  wow ! 
Said  Rover  :  "  We  '11  not  sell  them  now  — 

Bow,  wow ! 

Although  we  have  many, 
We  can't  part  with  any  ; 
We  '11  manage  to  keep  them  somehow  — 
Bow,  wow ! " 


152 


THE    HOBO 

TT  EIGH  ho  !   shamble  and  jog ; 

•••  •*•  The  hobo  man  with  his  stub-tail  dog 

Takes  life  somewhat  as  he  takes  the  air : 

He  revels  in  nature  with  never  a  care 

As  to  who  may  own  it  —  he  whistles  and  sings  — 

With  none  of  the  work  nor  worry  it  brings. 

'  T  is  little  he  cares  what  people  may  think, 

Since  nature  has  furnished  him  water  to  drink ; 

He  can  borrow  his  clothes  and  beg  his  food  — 

This  raggedy,  baggedy,  highway  dude. 

The  dog  that  follows  the  hobo  man 
Had  grown  a  tail  on  a  generous  plan, 
But  being  an  hungered  the  hobo  said  — 
Having  heard  how  the  man  on  a  desert  was  fed : 
"  Dogs'  tails  are  old-fashioned  and  obsolete  !  " 
So  he  cut  off  the  tail  and  devoured  the  meat,  — 
Like  one  who  makes  free  with  what  is  n't  his  own, 
As  the  other  had  done  —  giving  doggie  the  bone, 
"  For  nature  hath  graciously  furnished  the  food," 
Said  the  raggedy,  baggedy,  highway  dude. 

Said  the  stub-tail  dog  to  the  hobo  man  : 
"  We  dine  on  a  most  economical  plan ! 
Though  oft  I  have  followed  it  only  to  fail, 
At  last  I  've  succeeded  in  catching  my  tail ! " 

153 


The  Hobo 

And  the  little  dog  laughed  at  the  humor  —  ha  !  ha  ! 
As  he  gnawed  at  the  end  of  his  vertebra ! 
"  In  accomplishing  this,  such  a  marvelous  feat, 
You  have  kept  us  alive,  making  both  ends  meet ; 
May  we  never  again  be  cur-tailed  of  our  food  ! " 
Said  the  raggedy,  baggedy,  highway  dude. 


154 


DOLL -BABY    TOWN 

rpHERE  's  a  Doll-baby  town  ! 
•*•     I  found  it  by  accident,  not  far  away, 
In  the  land  of  Muchacha,  as  Spaniards  would  say : 
In  dreams  I  went  galloping  hither  and  yon  — 
'T  was  doubtless  a  nightmare  I  cantered  upon  — 
I  rode  over  mountain  and  valley  and  glade 
To  a  place  where  the  beautiful  dollies  are  made ; 
In  a  land  that  is  ruled  by  a  beautiful  queen, 
I  discovered  a  village  I  never  had  seen, 
Called  Doll-baby  town. 

Where  is  Doll-baby  town  ? 
As  Mother  Goose  told  me  I  '11  tell  it  to  you :  — 
"  Ride  past  the  Old  Woman's,  who  lives  in  a  shoe ; 
Past  Little  Miss  Muffet's,  then  turn  at  the  corner 
Where   live   the   Boy   Blue   and  the  famous  Jack 

Horner ; 

By  Little  Bo-Peep's,  —  through  the  forest ;  beware 
Of   the   wolf   who    met    Little    Red    Riding-hood 

there ;  — 

Past  Old  Mother  Hubbard's,  on  over  the  hill, 
Worn  bare  by  the  tumbling  of  Jack  and  of  Gill !  — 
There  is  Doll-baby  town  !  " 

In  Doll-baby  town 

There 's  nobody  living  but  dollies,  I  hear, 
And  that  is  the  reason  the  town  is  so  queer ; 


Doll  -  Baby  Town 

The  streets  all  so  narrow,  the  buildings  so  small ; 
But  little  toy  citizens  never  grow  tall. 
With  dollies  out  walking,  and  dollies  a-wheel ; 
While  others  are  riding  the  automobile ; 
So  many  out  shopping,  and  others  at  tea, 
But  all  are  as  happy  as  happy  can  be 
In  Doll-baby  town. 

In  Doll-baby  town 

The  people  are  moral ;  and  strange  to  relate, 
Have  only  one  church  where  they  all  congregate  — 
Those  wee  little  people,  in  wee  little  pews  — 
The   Turk  and   the    Moslem,    the  Christians   and 

Jews :  — 

'T  is  little  they  care  for  the  wealth  or  the  breed, 
And  reckon  the  mortal  far  more  than  the  creed. 
Their  virtues  so  many,  their  vices  so  few, 
Policemen  and  preachers  have  little  to  do, 

In  Doll-baby  town. 

In  Doll-baby  town 

There  are  no  politicians  !    How  strange  it  must  seem 
To  have  people  honest,  all  held  in  esteem ; 
Where  plenty  is  common  there  's  never  a  need 
To  clutch  after  money  with  merciless  greed ! 
No  drinking  nor  gambling ;  no  envy,  no  strife  ; 
But  the  peace  and  good-will  of  an  ethical  life. 
If  men  were  like  dollies,  from  selfishness  free, 
This  beautiful  world  would  a  paradise  be, 

Like  Doll-baby  town. 
156 


Doll  -  Baby  Town 

To  Doll-baby  town, 

I  wish  I  could  take  all  the  children  I  know ; 
The  journey  's  so  cheap  everybody  should  go  — 
On  hobby-horse,  rocker,  or  grandfather's  knee  ; 
The  big  ones  half  price  and  the  little  ones  free. 
Oh,  to  look  at  their  faces  and  watch  the  surprise 
Peeping  out  of  the  windows  of  wide-open  eyes  — 
And  hear  what  the  dear  little  children  would  say : 
Their  musical  laughter ;  their  joy  of  a  day 

In  Doll-baby  town. 


157 


DAN   BUTTERFIELD 

'T^O  make  the  soldier,  you  surely  need, 
•*•     Above  the  courage  and  grit  and  breed, 
That  thorough  drill  in  the  soldier's  trade 
That  rendered  Butterfield's  old  brigade 
So  famous  during  the  civil  strife 
As  a  wall  of  defense,  instinct  with  life, 
That  could  n't  be  driven  back  nor  moved ; 
As  the  battle  of  Games'  Mill  clearly  proved, 
Where  valor  another  synonym  made, 
In  the  bugle-call  of  the  Third  Brigade :  — 

"Dan!  Dan!  Dan! 

Butterfield  !  Butterfield !  " 


Great  battles  of  lesser  battles  are  made ; 
And  often  the  pluck  of  a  single  brigade 
Has  turned  the  tide  and  rebuked  the  storm 
Of  rushing  thousands  in  uniform. 
But  back  of  the  valor  by  which  men  win 
Are  the  bitter  lessons  of  discipline ; 
And  the  Third  Brigade  in  the  test  of  war 
Found  out  what  rigorous  rules  were  for ; 
Though  oft  when  weary,  some  wag  would  bawl 
This  change  in  the  words  of  the  bugle-call :  — 

"D— n!  Dan!  Dan! 

Butterfield  !  Butterfield  !  " 
158 


Dan  Butterfield 

The  Games'  Mill  Battle,  old  soldiers  say, 

Was  the  fiercest  one  of  the  civil  fray : 

'T  was  in  Sixty- two,  in  the  afternoon 

On  a  sunny  day  near  the  end  of  June, 

When  the  crafty  Lee,  in  his  armed  might, 

Hard  hit  McClellan's  unguarded  right. 

It  was  fearful  odds  :  —  Eighty  thousand  bore 

With  terrible  weight  on  a  single  corps 

Which  seemed  to  be  standing  on  dress  parade. 

Where  rose  the  cry  of  the  Third  Brigade  :  — 

"  Dan !  Dan  !  Dan  ! 

Butterfield !  Butterfield  !  " 

"  Be  sure,  my  men  of  the  Third  Brigade, 
To  show  the  metal  of  which  you  're  made ! 
Wait  till  you  see  the  white  of  the  eye, 
Then  fire  at  the  knee  and  don't  fire  high !  " 
As  wave  follows  wave  on  the  rocky  shore, 
Come  the  long  gray  lines  with  ominous  roar,    • 
To  fall  back  broken  !     'T  is  death  to  stay  — 
For  the  Third  Brigade  will  never  give  way  ! 
With  matchless  courage,  e'en  while  they  fall, 
They  shout  the  words  of  their  bugle-call:  — 

"  Dan  !  Dan  !  Dan ! 

Butterfield  !  Butterfield ! " 

There  are  times  when  brave  men  only  stand 
Because  a  hero  is  in  command ; 
And  here  is  a  case  where  thousands  yield 
The  palm  of  valor  to  Butterfield  : 

159 


Dan  Butterfield 

"  Hold  this  position  !  "  they  hear  him  say, 

"  For  should  you  waver,  the  corps  gives  way !  " 

Then  down  the  lines,  in  the  face  of  death, 

They  watch  him  ride,  and  catching  their  breath 

At  sight  of  a  courage  almost  insane, 

They  shout  from  fear  their  commander  be  slain  : 

UD— n!  Dan!   Dan! 

Butterfield  !  Butterfield  !  " 

In  the  lull  of  battle  they  hear  him  shout : 
"  Your  ammunition  is  never  out 
So  long  as  your  bayonets  hold  !  "     And  then, 
Thrusting  a  guidon  in  earth  :  —  "  Brave  men 
Of  the  Sixteenth,  make  it  a  human  wall, 
Though  every  man  in  the  regiment  fall !  " 
The  enemy  charged  and  charged  again : 
In  five  short  minutes  a  thousand  men 
Went  down  like  grass  from  the  mower's  blade, 
So  fearful  the  fire  of  the  Third  Brigade ! 

"Dan!  Dan!  Dan! 

Butterfield  !  Butterfield ! " 

Great  wars  may  trample  out  human  lives, 
But  the  story  of  valor  forever  survives  :  — 
The  rest  of  the  corps  so  shattered  and  torn 
By  weight  of  numbers  was  overborne 
And  driven  back !     But  the  Third  Brigade, 
Though  fighting  an  army,  would  not  be  swayed ; 
But  held  their  ground  till  the  day  was  done  ! 
The  battle  was  lost ;  but  the  Third  had  won 
1 60 


Dan  Butterfield 

A  glory  that  victory  cannot  bring  — 

The  palm  for  valor  !  —  and  still  they  sing : 

"Dan!  Dan!  Dan! 

Butterfield  !  Butterfield  I " 

Consummate  soldier  was  "  Fighting  Dan," 
Who  never  was  conquered  because  his  plan 
Was  :  "  Fight !     And  the  sooner  the  battle  is  won 
The  sooner  the  business  of  war  is  done !  " 
"  What  else,"  cried  he,  "  is  the  soldier  for 
But  to  stop  the  rush  of  the  steeds  of  war  ? " 
With  him  was  the  genius  and  fearless  hand 
For  wielding  the  sword  of  supreme  command. 
Some  deeds  of  valor  are  left  untold, 
But  Fame  has  this  with  the  great  enrolled : 

"  Dan  !  Dan  !  Dan  ! 

Butterfield  !  Butterfield  1 " 


161 


LITTLE    MISS   STUDY  AND 
LITTLE    MISS    PLAY 

T    ITTLE  Miss  Study  and  little  Miss  Play, 
-L'   Each  came  to  the  school  from  an  opposite  way ; 
While  little  Miss  Study  could  always  recite, 
This  little  Miss  Play  hardly  ever  was  right ; 
For  little  Miss  Study  found  she  could  do  more 
By  learning  her  lessons  the  evening  before ; 
But,  fond  of  a  frolic,  this  little  Miss  Play 
Would  put  off  her  lessons  until  the  next  day. 
At  the  head  of  her  class  Miss  Study  was  put, 
While  little  Miss  Play  had  to  stay  at  the  foot ! 
Thus  little  Miss  Study  and  little  Miss  Play 
Went  onward  through  life  —  in  an  opposite  way. 


162 


THE   STUTTERING   LOVER 


I 


LU-LOVE  you  very  well, 
Much  mu-more  than  I  can  tell, 
With  a  lu-lu-lu-lu-love  I  cannot  utter ; 
I  kn-know  just  what  to  say 
But  my  tongue  gets  in  the  way, 
And  af -fe-fe-fe-fe-fection  's  bound  to  stutter ! 

When  a  wooer  wu-wu-woos, 

And  a  cooer  cu-cu-coos, 
Till  his  face  is  re-re-red  as  a  tomato. 

Take  his  heart  in  bi-bi-bits. 

Every  portion  fi-fi-fits. 
Though  his  love  song  su-su-seem  somewhat  staccato  / 

I  '11  wu- worship  you,  of  course, 

And  nu-never  get  divorce, 
Though  you  stu-stu-stu-stu-storm  in  angry  weather  ; 

For  whu-when  you  're  in  a  pique, 

So  mu-mad  you  cannot  speak, 
We  '11  be  du-du-du-du-dumb  then  both  together. 


TWO   APPLES 

H,  she  was  fair  as  the  god  of  love, 

And  sweet  as  a  dream  of  bliss  above ; 
While  he  was  modest  and  feared  to  tell 
The  love  he  never  could  hide  right  well. 
He  took  two  apples  :  one  white,  one  red  ; 
"  These  apples  are  you  and  I,"  he  said ; 
"  The  red  one  I  and  the  fair  one  you ; 
Pray  make  your  choice  of  the  apples  two 
And  leave  the  other  for  love  to  woo. 

"Apples  are  like  the  human  heart: 
Some  are  sweet  and  others  tart ; 
Apples  of  love  and  apples  of  gold  ; 
In  each  a  story  of  love  is  told. 
On  neighboring  trees  these  apples  grew  ; 
While  yours  is  fair,  mine  changed  its  hue 
By  blushing  red  in  its  love  for  you" 

He  stepped  aside ;  she  was  left  alone  ; 
She  took  his  apple  and  left  her  own ; 
He  found  her  hiding  her  love  away 
Behind  the  lace  of  the  window-bay ; 
Her  lips  were  pressing  his  apple  red, 
"I  '11  take  the  place  of  the  fruit,"  he  said. 
The  apples  saw  and  the  apples  knew 
Just  what  those  lovers  were  coming  to : 
They  kissed  !     What  apples  can  never  do. 
164 


ARBOR   DAY 

T  TARD  by  the  western  portal  now  we  wait 
*•  *  To  deck  the  rugged  walls  of  Golden  Gate, 
That  stand  athwart  the  azure  ocean  old, 
To  frame  the  picture  rare  of  blue  and  gold. 

And  looking  backward  toward  the  crested  town, 
Behold,  there  seems  a  forest  moving  down ; 
I  cry  aloud,  like  Scotland's  ancient  thane, 
Great  Birnam's  wood  now  comes  to  Dunsinane  ! 

Not  so  ?     Then  have  these  cauldron  witches  lied ! 
For  those  who  come  march  not  with  martial  stride ; 
These  boughs  hide  not  a  horde  of  mailed  men 
Whose  numbers  and  whose  force  ye  dinna  ken ; 

But  these  are  children,  garlands  in  their  hand, 

Who  now  upon  the  city's  highway  stand, 

Like  those  of  old  who  sang  Judea's  psalms 

And  strewed  the  Lord's  highway  with  fragrant  palms ; 

And  if  they  would  the  same  Hosannas  cry, 

No  doubt  they  'd  see  the  Savior  passing  by. 

Each  little  arm  enfolds  a  tiny  tree ; 

Pray,  children,  tell  what  may  your  mission  be  ? 

Wherefore  these  shrubs  ?     They   may   not  be  for 

shade ; 
For  what,  the  trowel  and  the  tiny  spade  ? 


Arbor  Day 

You  children  all,  I  think,  should  be  in  school ; 
Mayhap  you  Ve  run  away  and  broke  the  rule, 
And  come  out  here  upon  the  moor  to  play  — 
What 's  that  you  tell  me  ?  —  This  is  Arbor  Day  ? 

So  you  are  out  to  worship  Nature  now, 
And  place  a  lasting  garland  on  her  brow  — 
Eternal  wreath,  a  glory  ever  more  — 
Far  better  crown  than  monarch  ever  bore. 

What  music,  when  the  little  shovels  speed 
To  break  the  earth  with  most  unhallowed  greed  ! 
Look  !  in  a  trice  those  scanty  graves  are  made 
Whose  resurrection  is  the  coming  shade. 

A  lesson  this  :  Let  each  one  plant  his  own, 
And  nations  spare  the  trees  already  grown. 
How  great  a  good  can  come  from  little  things  — 
These  twigs  may  be  the  future  forest  kings. 

Dig  deep  the  earth  and  lay  the  roots  with  care, 
And  God  will  tend  what  you  have  planted  there. 
Oft  watch  its  growth  and  you  may  ever  know 
How  Heaven  perfects  what  man  begins  below. 

All  praise  to  him  who  gave  this  notion  birth  I 
They  plant  a  tree  to  beautify  the  earth  ; 
And  there  we  leave  them  in  their  matchless  glee, 
Those  laughing  children  by  the  laughing  sea. 


1 66 


CONDUCTOR  SAMMY 

" '  HP  IS  only  a  touching  story 

•*•       That  squeezes  a  fellow's  heart, 
And  softens  human  nature 

By  making  the  big  tears  start : 
Though  Sammy  was  called  conductor, 

He  was  only  six  years  old, 
But  one  of  those  tender  natures 

That  take  the  stronger  hold. 

"  We  grew  right  fond  of  Sammy," 

Said  Train  Conductor  Brown, 
"  And  always  found  him  waiting 

When  the  train  came  in  the  town ; 
And  the  engineer  who  loved  him 

Always  looked  to  Sammy  Crane 
To  raise  his  hand  in  signal 

And  start  the  waiting  train : 

"When  everything  was  ready, 

I  would  simply  mutter  low : 
*  The  time  is  up  now,  Sammy, 

Suppose  you  let  her  go  ; ' 
And  then  he  'd  holler  clearly  : 

'  All  aboard  ! '  and  wave  his  hand 
In  that  peculiar  manner 

The  rail-men  understand. 
167 


Conductor  Sammy 

"  But  our  Sammy  got  the  fever, 

And  one  day  the  people  said : 
1  Our  little  boy  conductor 

Could  n't  come,  for  he  is  dead.' 
That  big-hearted  engine-driver 

Pulled  his  cap  down  o'er  his  eyes — • 
Though  a  tear  prove  man  the  nobler, 

He  's  ashamed  to  own  he  cries. 

"  Three  days  later  I  stood  waiting, 

Waiting  on  the  engineer, 
While  his  engine  blocked  the  crossing  — 

For  I  give  no  signal  here ; 
He  seemed  watching  something  coming, 

That  was  bound  to  cross  the  track ; 
But  instead  of  going  forward, 

Strangely  moved  the  engine  back. 

"  'T  was  the  children  in  procession, 

Each  with  flowers  on  their  breast, 
And  a  pretty  white  hearse  followed 

Bearing  Sammy  home  to  rest. 
Then  that  great  big  engine-driver, 

As  the  little  hearse  came  near, 
*Laid  a  wreath  of  white,  white  roses 

On  the  little  fellow's  bier. 

"  Both  his  cheeks  with  tears  were  running, 
As  you  Ve  seen  big  drops  of  rain, 

When  the  clouds  outside  are  weeping, 
Hurry  down  the  window-pane : 
1 68 


Conductor  Sammy 

And  the  great  bell  on  the  engine 
Was  softly  tolled  that  day ; 

And  its  throbbing  seemed  like  sobbing 
As  the  engine  moved  away. 

"  T  is  only  a  touching  story 

That  squeezes  a  fellow's  heart, 
And  softens  human  nature 

By  making  the  big  tears  start. 
And  now  you  know  the  reason 

I  give  no  signal  here, 
But  simply  wait  the  pleasure 

Of  my  faithful  engineer." 


169 


THE  DAGO 

T  AM-a  one  Ital-i-an 

People  call-a  me  Da-go-man 
I  lik-a  live  U-ni-ted  State, 
Mak-a  heap  o'  mon-a  any  rate ; 
Smok-a  vera  cheap-a  ciga-ret, 
Eat-a  macaroni  an'  spaget' ; 
I  am-a  descended  from 
Christoph'  Colomb' ! 

I  am-a  da  dago 

That  mak-a  da  play  go  ; 

I  live  on-a  sago, 
Work-a  cheap-a  than  Irish  Pat. 

I  sell-a  banano 

Any  play  da  piano 

For  da  Americano, 
An*  mak-a  good-a  Democrat! 

I  bring-a  dis-a  leetal  monk 
Ovair  in  dis-a  leetal  trunk ; 
Though-a  vera  homely  one, 
He  help-a  me  mak-a  da  mon. 
Irish  man  he  call-a  me, 
Da  leetal  monkey  pedigree ; 
Call-a  da  monk  ancestor  from 
Christoph'  Colomb' ! 
170 


The  Dago 

I  drag  piano  through  da  town ; 
People  throw  me  da  nickel  down ; 
I  mak-a  vera  sweet-a  bow 
To  servant  gal,  she  mak-a  row : 
Call-a  me  da  piano  horse ! 
Say  pian'  so  old,  o'  course 
It  was-a  descended  from 
Christoph'  Colomb' ! 

Beeg-a  fool  come  evair  day, 
Ask-a  where  I  learn  to  play ; 
Tell-a  me  I  must-a  be 
Great-a  lik-a  Pad-a-ru-si-kee ! 
Small  boy  mak-a  bad-a  face ; 
Call-a  me  dat-a  stumpy  race  — 
Mis-fit-a  descended  from 
Christoph'  Colomb' ! 

Cable-car  he  bump-a  me, 
Police- a-m an  he  thump-a  me, 
Truck-a-man  upset-a  me, 
Sprinkle-a-man  he  wet-a  me, 
Fire-a-engine  come-a  dash, 
Break  da  organ  all-a  smash  1 
Kill  da  monk  decended  from 
Christoph'  Colomb'  1 


171 


BILLY   IDON'KNOW 

HERE  is  a  youth  unknown  to  fame, 

Yet  everybody  knows  his  name  ; 
He  lives  all  over,  here  and  there, 
You  find  him  almost  anywhere. 
You  know  him  by  his  slimsy  gait 
That  nothing  can  accelerate. 
He  takes  things  as  they  come  or  go  — 
We  call  him  Billy  Idon'know. 

Or  fat  or  tall,  or  short  or  slim, 
He  knows  you  not,  but  you  know  him , 
And  should  you  chance  to  be  in  doubt, 
Ask  him  a  question  —  you  '11  find  out ; 
And  be  his  first  name  what  it  may, 
You  know  his  last  name,  anyway  — 
His  drawly  answer  tells  you  so  — 
You  're  talking  to  an  Idon'know. 

He  knows  not  if  it 's  May  or  June ; 
Nor  that  he  whistles  out  of  tune. 
He  goes  through  school  so  far  behind 
It  needs  no  exercise  of  mind ; 
For  in  his  class,  you  may  depend, 
He 's  always  at  the  farther  end ; 
And  all  through  life  he  stubs  his  toe, 
This  Nilly,  felly  Idon'know. 
172 


Billy  Idon'know 

His  hands  have  never  reached  success 
Because  they  're  in  his  pockets  pressed. 
In  this  one  thing  doth  he  excel : 
He  always  sleeps  exceeding  well. 
When  Death  has  whispered  in  his  ear  - 
"  You  are  no  longer  needed  here  !  " 
Just  ask  him  where  he  means  to  go, 
And  he  will  answer  :  "  Idon'know  1 " 


173 


THE   GIRL   THAT   WINKED 
HER  EYE 

PRETTY  girl,  though  sweet  and  mild, 
By  freak  of  nature  winked  and  smiled  : 
No  matter  how  she  plied  her  will, 
Sometimes  the  orb  would  not  keep  still  : 
At  intervals  she  had  to  wink  — 
Save  when  she  closed  her  eyes  to  think, 
Or  when  asleep,  or  at  her  prayers  — 
The  fit  came  on  her  unawares ; 

Her  pretty  eye  kept  blinking, 

And  she  kept  on  a-winking. 

When  some  loquacious  table  guest, 
Who  deemed  his  stories  much  the  best, 
Had  told  a  thrilling  escapade 
In  which  himself  the  hero  played, 
He  'd  blush  to  see  this  maiden 'shy 
Turn  round  and  slowly  wink  her  eye, 
As  if  to  say :  "  It  Js  up  your  sleeve, 
For  that 's  a  tale  I  can't  believe." 

Her  pretty  eye  still  blinking, 

While  she  kept  on  a-winking. 

A  handsome  neighbor  lost  his  wife ; 
She  'd  been  a  shrew  most  all  her  life. 

174 


The  Girl  That  Winked  Her  Eye 

The  elder  at  the  service  said : 
"  Your  heart  is  broken  for  the  dead ! 
You  'd  fain  call  back  your  better  half  ! " 
Just  then  was  heard  a  smothered  laugh, 
While  others  trembled  on  the  brink 
To  see  the  artless  maiden  wink ; 

Her  pretty  eye  kept  blinking, 

And  she  kept  on  a-winking. 

Before  the  altar  as  a  bride, 

Just  when  the  knot  was  nearly  tied, 

On  being  asked  if  she  'd  "  obey  " 

She  winked  in  such  a  knowing  way, 

It  made  the  very  modest  "  Yes  !  " 

Seem  little  more  than  :  "  Well,  I  guess  ! " 

It  made  the  solemn  parson  smile 

And  turn  his  face  away ;  meanwhile 

Her  pretty  eye  kept  blinking, 

And  she  kept  on  a-winking. 


175 


HE    WOULDN'T   TELL    HIS    MA 

N'  once  there  was  a  naughty  boy, 

Who  would  n't  tell  his  ma  ; 
For  he  was  mostly  all  alloy, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 
He  caught  a  bumblebee  one  day,  — 
For  more  Jn  a  week  he  could  n't  play, 
Because  he  did  n't  feel  "  O.  K." 
But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 

An*  once  he  got  the  chicken-pox, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma  ; 
He  feared  they  'd  put  him  in  a  box, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 
He  'd  go  to  bed  away  up-stairs, 
An'  would  n't  say  his  little  prayers, 
Essept  when  he  was  'fraid  o'  bears, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 

Was  allers  gittin'  boils  an'  bumps, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma ; 
He  had  the  measles  an'  the  mumps, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 
An*  slidin'  down  the  cellar  door, 
He  got  his  little  bloomers  tore, 
An'  picked  up  splinters  by  the  score, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 


He  Wouldn't  Tell  His  Ma 

An'  once  he  stoled  his  mother's  horse, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma ; 
An'  he  got  kicked  full  of  remorse, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 
An'  once  he  smoked  a  cigarette,  — 
The  doctor  wondered  what  he  'd  e't, 
Till  he  throw'd  up  his  alphabet, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 

When  he  grow'd  up  he  kissed  a  gal, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma  ; 
Because  it  wa'  n't  reciprocal, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 
He  allers  thought  'at  she  'd  elope, 
It  filled  him  full  o'  joy  an'  hope, 
But  when  he  ask'd  her,  she  said :  "  Nope  1 " 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 

An'  then  he  grew  so  drefful  old, 

But  he  wouldn't  tell  his  ma; 
An'  died  o'  microbes,  I  am  told, 

But  he  would  n't  tell  his  ma. 
He  went  to  heaven,  an'  was,  no  doubt, 
Ejected,  feelin'  much  put  out, 
Went  where  they  're  troubled  with  the  drought, 

An'  he  could  n't  tell  his  ma. 


177 


DOGGIE  'S    DOT    PUPPIES 


doggie's  dot  puppies;  I  tounted  des  five, 
Their  eyes  are  not  open  an'  yet  they  're  alive, 
An'  they  will  not  wake  up,  nor  take  a  sly  peep, 
For  the  reason  I  des  they  were  born  in  their  sleep. 

There  's  two  of  'em  brindle  an'  three  of  'em  dark, 
But  none  of  the  puppies  has  dot  any  bark  ; 
My  papa  says  :  "  Wait,  only  div  'em  a  chance, 
An'  they  '11  all  have  their  coats,  collars,  cuffs,  an' 
pants." 

Papa  says  we  Ve  too  many,  an'  picks  out  the  best, 
One  's  papa's,  one  mamma's,  one  mine  —  but  the 

rest 

Must  be  drowned  in  the  water  down  under  the  fall, 
Leaving  poor  mother  doggie  no  puppy  at  all. 

She  ought  to  have  one  for  herself,  I  should  say, 
But  papa  des  laughed,  as  he  took  two  away  , 
So  I  told  mother  doggie  if  she  would  n't  whine, 
And  would  promise  to  feed  him,  I  'd  des  loan  her 
mine. 


FOREIGNERS  ON  SANTA 
GLAUS 

Uncle  Sam 

YOU  want  ter  hear  yer  Uncle  Sam, 
Wall,  I  declar' ! 
You  've  sent  for  me  and  here  I  am ! 

Wall,  I  declar' ! 
If  thar  's  a  lad  of  Yankee  kin 
Doubts  Santa  Glaus,  jest  turn  him  in, 
I  reckon  he  '11  be  born  ag'in  ! 
Wall,  I  declar' ! 

John  Bull 

I  'm  Johnnie  Bull,  and  looking  well, 

Ah  !  don't  cher  know  ! 
I  think  me  eyeglass  rawther  swell ! 

Ah  !  don't  cher  know  ! 
I  've  come  to  vouch  for  Santa  Glaus, 
And  with  the  rampant  lion's  paws 
Help  Uncle  Sam  in  any  cause. 

Ah  !  don't  cher  know  ! 

German 

I  represent  dot  Yarmany, 

Und  das  ist  recht ! 
Dot  cap  und  vooden  shoe  vas  me, 

Und  das  ist  recht !  , 

179 


Foreigners  on  Santa  Claus 

Dot  Santa  Clauses  vot  you  sing, 
Kris  Kringle  vas,  der  childer's  king ; 
Dey  luff  him  more  as  effryting, 
Und  das  ist  recht ! 

Scotchman 

The  bonnie  Scotchman  niver  doot 

Wi'  Scots  Wauhai ! 
That  Santa  Claus  goes  a'  aboot ! 

Wi'  Scots  Wauhai ! 
In  a'  fair  Scotland  he 's  at  hame  — 
In  highland,  lowland,  a'  the  same  — 
And  ev'ry  bairnie  kens  his  name, 

In  Scots  Wauhai ! 

Frenchman 

I  am  ze  Frenchman  from  Parefe, 

Ah  !  Parlez  vous  ? 
Please  pay  ze  gran'  reespect  to  me, 

Ze  same  to  you ! 

We  have  ze  Santa  Claus  een  France ; 
We  see  him  when  we  get  ze  chance ; 
Monsieur,  he  wear  ze  baggy  pants  — 

'T  is  entre  nous  ! 

Irishman 

And  I  'm  the  proper  Irish  rogue, 

Erin  Gobraugh  ! 
Wid  me  shillalah  and  me  brogue, 

Erin  Gobraugh  ! 
1 80 


Foreigners  on  Santa  Claus 

I  use  them  both  when  in  a  row ; 
Should  any  creature  wonder  how, 
Here 's  one  for  Santa  Claus  right  now ! 
Erin  Gobraugh  ! 

Italian 

Ital-ia-man,  he  like-a  yet 

Italia, 
Da  macaroni  and  spaget' ! 

Italia  ! 

Da  Dago  like  American,  — 
He  tink-a  since  the  worl'  began, 
Da  Santa  Claus  a  good-a  man. 

Italia ! 

Negro 

I 's  jes'  an  Alabama  coon, 

Indeed  I  is ! 
I 's  better  in  de  rag-time  tune, 

Indeed  I  is ! 

But  when  you  heahs  de  niggahs  shout 
'Bout  Christmas- time,  you  best  watch  out, 
Ole  Santa  Claus  somewhah  about. 

Indeed  he  is  1 


181 


THE   SPARROW 

j\    TOUGH  little  fellow  is  he, 
-***  Whose  forefathers  came  o'er  the  sea ; 

But  a  patriot  now, 

And  so  fond  of  a  row, 
He  will  fight  for  his  own  liberty. 

He  was  born,  like  the  rest  of  us,  here, 
And  his  birthright  is  surely  as  clear ; 

With  the  strenuous  band, 

Spread  all  over  the  land, 
He  will  fight  for  his  right,  never  fear ! 

Always  busy,  at  work  or  at  play, 

He  will  chirp  through  the  long  winter  day ; 

Though  his  song  is  n't  much, 

Yet  it  keeps  us  in  touch, 
With  the  birds  which  the  cold  drives  away. 

This  chirp  little  sparrow, 

Has  grit  to  the  marrow. 
And  acts  with  such  freedom  of  manner 

We  never  can  doubt, 

He 's  Yankee  throughout, 
Fighting  under  the  Star  Spangled  Banner. 


182 


HOW   THE   MULE    WAS    MADE 


,  de  mule  was  made  one  day, 

Ah  suppose, 
By  some  amateurs  in  clay, 

Ah  suppose  ; 

Fust,  dey  try  to  make  de  cow, 
Done  fo'git  ezactly  how, 
So  dey  end  up  in  a  row, 
Ah  suppose. 

Ah  suppose, 

Den  dey  started  in  a-kickin\ 
Dat  's  why  de  mule  needs  lickirf, 
When  back  his  ears  am  sticking 

Ah  suppose. 

Den  dey  change  it  to  a  hoss, 

Ah  suppose, 
But  de  tail  haih  done  got  los', 

Ah  suppose  ; 

But  de  man  what  make  de  heels 
An'  de  powah  dey  conceals, 
Nevah  since  been  home  to  meals, 

Ah  suppose. 

An'  de  man  what  make  de  eahs, 
Ah  suppose, 

183 


How  the  Mule  Was  Made 

Done  fo'git  to  use  de  sheahs, 

Ah  suppose ; 

An'  de  one  what  make  de  voice 
Done  got  reason  to  rejoice, 
Gaze  he  make  it  pow'ful  choice, 

Ah  suppose. 

Dey  intends  to  make  him  mild, 

Ah  suppose, 
Like  a  gentle,  timid  child, 

Ah  suppose ; 

But  de  man  what  work  behind, 
On  de  disposition  kind, 
Gits  de  worst  one  he  can  find, 

Ah  suppose. 

So  de  man  what  make  de  face, 

Ah  suppose, 
Fill  it  full  ob  tendah  grace, 

Ah  suppose  ; 

When  dey  done  put  in  de  breff, 
Mule  he  kick  'em  all  to  deff ; 
So  he  finish  up  himseff, 

Ah  suppose. 


184 


SUNSHINE 

OOME  people  have  the  sunshine, 
^     While  others  have  the  rain  ; 
But  God  don't  change  the  weather 

Because  the  folks  complain. 
Don't  waste  your  time  in  grumbling, 

Nor  wrinkle  up  your  brow ; 
Some  other  soul  has  trouble, 

Most  likely  has  it  now. 

When  nature  lies  in  shadow, 

On  damp  and  cloudy  days, 
Don't  blame  the  sun,  good  people, 

But  loan  a  few  bright  rays. 
The  sun  is  always  shining 

Above  the  misty  shroud, 
And  if  your  world  be  murky, 

The  fault  lies  in  the  cloud. 

Take  sunshine  to  your  neighbor, 

In  all  you  do  and  say ; 
Have  sunshine  in  your  labor, 

And  sunshine  in  your  play. 
Where'er  the  storm-cloud  lowers, 

Take  in  the  sunlight  glow, 
And  Heaven  will  show  what  flowers 

From  seeds  of  kindness  grow. 
185 


I     LOVE     HER    JUST     BECAUSE 
I    DO 

T    LOVE  her  for  her  charming  face, 
A    And  those  fond  eyes  that  gaze  on  me, 
And  roguish  lips  that  hold  the  place 
Where  other  lips  most  long  to  be, 
The  rosy  cheek,  the  dimpled  chin, 
That  would  less  ardent  lover  win. 

/  love  her  just  because  I  do. 
Because  'tis  such  a  pleasure,  too, 

And  were  such  wooing 

My  undoing 

Just  as  tenderly  I  'd  woo, 
I  couldn't  help  it,  nor  could  you. 

I  love  her  for  her  dimpled  hand, 
And  hold  it  just  to  see  her  frown, 
And  disobey  her  sweet  command 
To  see  her  dainty  foot  come  down. 
I  could  not  change  her  if  I  would 
Nor  would  I  change  her  if  I  could. 

I  love  her  for  herself  alone, 
And  worship  at  the  shrine  within 
Until  her  kisses  make  it  known 
I  am  forgiven  for  the  sin ; 
I  wonder  if  in  heaven  I  '11  be 
Excused  for  such  idolatry. 
1 86 


THE    GOSSIPS 

/^\H  !  we  're  the  pretty  gossips  of  renown, 
Who  never  let  a  secret  tumble  down. 
We  ring  a  little  bell 
When  there  's  anything  to  tell, 

And  spread  it  on  the  quiet  through  the  town. 

For  we  are  the  gossips, 
The  merry,  merry  gossips, 

The  laughing,  chaffing  gossips  of  the  town. 
For  we  prattle  and  we  tattle, 
And  our  little  tongues  we  rattle, 

And  we  never  let  a  secret  tumble  down. 

Oh !  we  're  the  busy  gossips,  people  say, 
Who  never  let  a  secret  go  astray.  . 
We  know  just  what  to  do  :  — 
Pass  it  round  among  the  few 
Until  we  have  it  fully  under  way. 

Whene'er  we  hear  of  something  very  good 
We  tell  it  all  around  the  neighborhood ; 

For  no  one  can  refuse 

A  bit  of  spicy  news  ; 

Folks  would  n't  stop  our  prattle  if  they  could. 
187 


The  Gossips 

Oh  !  we  're  the  dizzy  gossips  people  fear ; 
We  catch  up  all  the  naughty  things  we  hear ; 

We  've  always  got  our  "  phiz," 

Into  other  people's  "  biz," 
To  discover  something  just  a  trifle  queer. 


1 88 


OLD    MAN   O'  THE   MOON 

'\7'OU  smile  on  all  the  human  race, 

•*•        Old  man  o'  the  moon  ; 
Though  often  you  may  hide  your  face, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
Why  should  they  say  :  "  Inconstant  one  "  ? 
You  've  been  as  faithful  as  the  sun,  — 
Yes,  ever  since  the  world  begun, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 

Although  you  look  like  Horace  Greeley, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon ; 
You  do  not  give  advice  so  freely, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
Yet  from  your  movements  may  be  guessed 
What  plan  of  action  you  deem  best ; 
For  you  Ve  been  always  "going  West" 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 

You  never  seem  afraid  of  work, 

Old  man  o7  the  moon ; 
Nor  ever  any  duty  shirk, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
You  like  to  stay  up  late  at  night 
To  see  that  stars  don't  shine  too  bright, 
And  watch  that  earth  goes  round  all  right, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
189 


Old  Man  o'  the  Moon 

How  many  monstrous  things  you  Ve  seen, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon ; 
As  round  and  round  the  earth  you  Ve  been, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
How  many  secrets  you  could  tell : 
Few  midnight  crimes  that  e'er  befell 
But  you  have  seen  —  lone  sentinel  — 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 

Each  new-born  poet  sighs  to  you, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon ; 
And  faithless  lovers  vow  anew, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
Should  you  relate  each  whispered  word 
Of  love's  romances  you  have  heard, 
'T  would  make  a  comedy  absurd, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 

Were  you  to  tell  each  love  affair, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon ; 
The  social  world  would  have  a  scare, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
For  often  they  who  vow  the  most 
Are  soonest  up  to  see  the  ghost ; 
And  find  Divorce  a  sorry  host, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 

Though  out  all  night  till  early  morn, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon ; 
And  often  seen  to  take  a  horn, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
190 


Old  Man  o'  the  Moon 

You  never  seem  to  lose  your  skull 
But  gain  in  strength  by  getting  full ; 
For  then  you  have  the  strongest  pull, 
Old  man  o'  the  moon. 

"  Bi-metalism,"  Nature  cries, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon, 
And  you  're  the  Bryan  of  the  skies, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
The  Golden  Sun  may  rule  by  day, 
Yet  both  the  metals  have  fair  play, 
As  you  're  free  silver  anyway, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 

If  you  were  here  when  earth  was  made, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon ; 
You  know  just  where  the  pole  was  laid, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 
For  fear  that  some  "  Extension  "  cranks 
May  wish  it  ruled  by  modern  Yanks, 
Please  keep  it  dark  and  have  our  thanks, 

Old  man  o'  the  moon. 


191 


OLD  KENTUCKY 

OOME  people  like  the  dark  brunette, 
^     While  others  fancy  yellow ; 
Give  me  my  auburn-haired  Jeanette, 

With  eyes  that  melt  a  fellow. 
She  was  so  pretty  when  we  met, 

Hard  by  my  father's  meadow ; 
Just  what  I  asked  I  do  forget, 

But  this  is  what  she  said,  "  Oh, 

"Tts  because  I  was  so  lucky 
To  be  born  in  old  Kentucky  "  — 

As  she  winked  with  her  pretty,  laughing  eye  ~ 
"  Where  the  horses  are  much  fleeter, 
And  the  women  all  the  sweeter 

And  the  farmers  raise  extraordinary  rye!  " 

I  said,  "  My  pretty  stranger,  pray 

Sit  down  while  I  recover ; 
Your  beauty  takes  my  breath  away, 

And  I  'm  your  captive  lover. 
I  own  this  pretty  farm  you  see 

On  either  side  the  meadow, 
And  will  you,  dear,  its  mistress  be," 

And  this  is  what  she  said,  "  Oh, 

"  If  you  wish  to  be  so  lucky 
You  must  move  to  old  Kentucky  "  — 
192 


Old  Kentucky 

As  she  winked  with  her  pretty,  laughing  eye  - 
"  Where  the  horses  are  much  fleeter, 
And  the  women  all  the  sweeter 

And  the  farmers  raise  extraordinary  rye!  " 

When  angels  beckon  we  pursue, 

Though  to  Kentucky  leading. 
I  sold  the  farm,  what  could  I  do 

When  eyes  like  hers  were  pleading  ? 
And  there  she  showed  me  better  land, 

And,  in  her  blue-grass  meadow, 
She,  kissing,  bade  me  understand 

Just  why  it  was  she  said,  "  Oh, 

"  'Tis  because  I  was  so  lucky 
To  be  born  in  old  Kentucky  "  — 

As  she  winked  with  her  pretty,  laughing  eye- 
"  Where  the  horses  are  much  fleeter, 
And  the  women  all  the  sweeter 

And  the  farmers  raise  extraordinary  rye  !  " 


'93 


THE   DRUMMER   BOY   OF  THE 
RAPPAHANNOCK 

'rr^  WAS  a  question  if  the   nation   should  such 

•••  tender  youth  employ 

As  Robert  Henry  Hendershot,  the  little  drummer 

boy; 
A  prodigy  at  drumming  —  being  only  twelve  years 

old- 

And  a  prodigy  of  valor  as  the  story  has  been  told : 
At  Fredericksburg's  great  battle 
The  soldiers  heard  the  rattle 
Of  his  drum ! 


There   stood  Burnside  with  his  army  in   the   soft 

December  mud, 
With  the  Rappahannock  rolling  like  a  war-dividing 

flood; 
While  the  batteries  of  Robert  Lee  that  crowned  the 

farther  ridge, 

Dealing  death,  forbade  the  building  of  the  needed 
pontoon  bridge ! 

But  Burnside  came  for  battle, 
And  they  knew  it  by  the  rattle 
Of  the  drum ! 
194 


The  Drummer  Boy  of  the  Rappahannock 

When  Burnside  called  for  volunteers  to  make  the 

other  bank, 
The    Rappahannock   Drummer   Boy   was   first    to 

leave  the  rank ; 
And  while  a  cheer  for  Hendershot  went  up  from 

every  throat, 

There  followed  thirty  others,  just  enough  to  man 
the  boat ; 

He  said  :  "  I  '11  stem  the  battle  !  " 
And  they  heard  it  in  the  rattle 
Of  his  drum ! 


"  Clear  out,  youngster  !  "  said  the  captain,  "  Back  to 

camp  I  bid  you  go  !  " 
And  although   he    answered,  "  Yes,    sir ! "    still  he 

kept  on  thinking,  "  No  !  " 

He  was  bound  to  cross  that  river,  so  he  clung  be- 
hind the  boat, 

With  his   little   legs    a-kicking  —  half  a-swimming, 
half  afloat ; 

He  was  eager  for  the  battle 
And  to  lead  them  with  the  rattle 
Of  his  drum  ! 


Lee's  batteries  ceased  firing  from  the  heights  be- 
yond the  town, 

Or  Burnside  with  his  cannon  would  have  knocked 
the  city  down. 

195 


The  Drummer  Boy  of  the  Rappahannock 

When  the  little  boat  had  landed  through  that  spec- 
ial storm  of  lead, 

Nearly  all  the  men  were  wounded,  more  than  half 
of  them  were  dead ; 

And  a  shell  from  out  the  battle 
Had  "  busted  up  "  the  rattle 
Of  his  drum  ! 

With  a  dying  soldier's  rifle  soon  he  clambered  up 

the  bank, 
Looking   every  inch  a  hero,  though    a   very  little 

"  Yank ; " 
He  rushed  into  a  building  just  as  if  he  'd  take  the 

town, 

But  finding  it  deserted  started  in  to  burn  it  down, 
Adding  to  the  smoke  of  battle, 
And  to  make  up  for  the  rattle 
Of  his  drum  ! 

Saw  a  "  Johnny  "  in  the  garden  kneeling  down  be- 
hind the  gate, 
With  his  gun  poked  through  a  knot-hole  for  some 

poor  unfortunate ; 
Finding  out  he  was  not  praying,  little  Bob  hit  on 

the  plan 

Of  his  capture  —  so  he  shouted,  "  Now,  surrender, 
*   mister  man !  " 

And  with  his  loudest  bellow 
He  bade  the  frightened  fellow 
Drop  his  gun  I 


The  Drummer  Boy  of  the  Rappahannock 

Though    the  boy  looked   very   little,  yet   the   gun 

looked  very  big 
To  the  "  Johnny,"  who  kept  saying :  "  Need  n't  shoot, 

ye  little  prig  !  " 
And  he  marched  before  the  youngster  who  could 

hardly  raise  his  gun 

As  he  took  him  o'er  the  pontoon,  shouting,  "  Pris- 
oner number  one ! " 

The  youngster  thinking  he 
Had  captured  General  Lee 
With  his  gun ! 

Three  cheers  went   up  along  the  line,  as  fast  the 

story  ran, 
For  Robert  Henry  Hendershot,  the  boy  who  took 

the  man ! 
And  straight  to  General  Burnside  he  took  the  man 

in  gray  — 

The  chieftain  hailed  him  proudly  as  "the  hero  of 
the  day  ! " 

"  You  fired  the  men  for  battle 
Much  more  than  by  the  rattle 
Of  your  drum  !  " 


197 


DE   LIGHT  AND  DE  SATISFIED 

E  Light  lived  on  one  side  the  way, 

De  Satisfied  on  t'  other  ; 
What  pleased  the  one,  his  neighbors  say, 
Could  never  suit  the  other. 

De  Light  possessed  a  smiling  face  ; 

De  Satisfied  was  scowling ; 
And  kept  at  odds  with  all  his  race 

And  at  all  nature  growling. 

When  it  was  wet,  he  wished  it  dry ; 

When  hot,  he  wished  it  colder ; 
The  rheumatism  in  his  thigh, 

He  wished  was  in  his  shoulder. 

Mankind  would  be  in  no  such  plight 

If  he  could  have  dominion ; 
For  nothing  seemed  to  him  just  right 

Except  his  own  opinion. 

They  both  fell  sick,  but  strange  to  say, 

The  discontented  died ; 
And  folks  were  pleased  De  Light  got  well 

And  not  De  Satisfied. 
198 


De  Light  and  De  Satisfied 

And  at  his  grave,  quite  apropos, 
They  sang  with  all  their  might : 

"  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow  I 
And  sang  it  with  De  Light. 


199 


WOULD  N'T   YOU? 

T  CAME  upon  a  maiden  fair 
Out  riding  on  her  wheel ; 
At  first  I  thought  some  angel  rare 

Had  put  on  wings  of  steel ; 
Her  movements  were  so  full  of  grace, 

So  charming  to  the  eye, 
I,  lagging,  took  her  easy  pace ; 

I  could  n't  pass  her  by. 

And  when  she  stopped  upon  the  pike, 

'T  was  easy  to  be  seen 
Something  had  happened  to  the  bike 

Or  to  the  safety  queen ! 
I  tightened  up  her  pedals,  and  — 

As  any  one  would  do  — 
I  gently  took  her  proffered  hand 

And  kissed  it !     Would  n't  you  ? 

Then  side  by  side,  at  rapid  pace, 

We  coasted  down  the  hill ; 
But  though  my  feet  were  on  the  brace 

My  heart  would  not  keep  still ! 
She  struck  a  stone,  but  ere  she  fell  — 

As  any  one  would  do  — 
I  caught  her  in  my  arms,  ah,  well  — 

And  kissed  her !     Would  n't  you  ? 
200 


THE   COWBOYS'   CONCERT 

OLD  on,  I  say,  conductor  ! 

Don't  start  that  bullgine  yet. 
We  *re  goin'  to  have  some  music, 

An5  have  Jer  now,  ye  bet ! 
An'  don't  ye  touch  that  throttle  — 

I  mean  you,  engineer  — 
Fer  if  ye  try  to  start  'er 
We  '11  rope  yer  iron  steer. 

"  You  passengers  keep  quiet, 

An'  hold  yer  both  hands  down, 
But  don't  ye  try  to  flourish 

Them  pop-guns  used  in  town. 
We  don't  want  gold  ner  jewels, 

Ner  any  precious  notes, 
Except  from  Sousa's  bugles 

An'  them  sweet  singers'  throats. 

"  Bring  out  yer  band  thar,  Sousa, 

An'  toot  yer  big  bazoo, 
We  've  come  fer  high-tone  music 

An'  bound  to  see  'er  through. 
We  're  jest  a  lot  o'  cowboys, 

Way  out  here  on  the  plain, 
That  never  heard  ye,  Sousa  ; 

That  's  why  we  stopped  yer  train." 
201 


The  Cowboys'  Concert 

Then  Sousa  played  his  waltzes, 

Receiving  loud  hurrahs ! 
They  never  were  played  better, 

Nor  got  such  wild  applause ; 
And  when  the  great  soprano 

Sang  "  Home,  Sweet  Home/'  each  head 
Was  instantly  uncovered ; 

The  cowboys'  leader  said  : 

"  We  don't  hear  much  o'  seraphs 

An'  all  them  sort  o'  things, " 
Leastwise  —  beggin'  yer  pardon  — 

Not  them  as  carries  wings ; 
But  if  angels  up  in  heaven 

Are  anything  like  you 
We  'd  like  to  spend  a  lifetime 

Jest  roundin'  up  a  few. 

"  Rough  arguments  with  bullets, 

That  settles  all  disputes, 
Get  cowboys  in  the  fashion 

Of  dyin'  in  their  boots ; 
We  never  know  that  blessin'  — 

The  touch  o'  woman's  hand  ; 
An'  as  for  their  caresses, 

We  've  clean  forgot  the  brand ; 

"  But  you  Ve  accomplished  somethin' 

That  I  hain't  seen  fer  years ; 
You  struck  these  cowboys  tender 

An'  got  'em  sheddin'  tears. 
202 


The  Cowboys'  Concert 

If  they  could  hear  your  singin' 
Once  in  awhile,  each  pal 

Would,  in  the  final  round-up, 
Get  in  the  right  corral. 

"  Yer  singin'  was  far  sweeter 

Than  that  of  any  bird ; 
An'  now  we  're  goin'  to  give  ye 

Applause  ye  never  heard." 
Whereat  a  hundred  cowboys 

With  pistols,  each  a  pair, 
Leaped  to  their  waiting  mustangs, 

Fast  firing  in  the  air  ! 


203 


UNCLE   SAM'S    FAMILY 

\\  7  HEN  Georgia  wed  one  Flori-day, 
Sweet  Mina-Sota  then  he  swore 
He  'd  never  flirt  with  Mich-again, 
Nor  fair  Louis-anna  more. 

Wisconsin  said  New  York  had  brought 
A  brand  New  Jersey  for  the  bride ; 

While  Utah  brought  Da-kot-a-long, 

The  groom  put  on  with  so  much  pride. 

Virginia  took  Kentucky's  arm, 

And  said  she  'd  Cal-if.  Pennsy  would ; 

And  not  to  let  sweet  Tenne-see, 

New  Hampshire  kissed  her  'neath  her  hood. 

At  their  extensive  Okla-home, 

Miss  Ouri  spread  the  wedding  board ; 

With  Kans-a-sugar  corn  and  peas, 
And  everything  the  States  afford. 

Ohio  brought  with  Ala-Bam, 

The  pretty  sisters  Caroline  ; 
Montana  said  :  "  I-ow-a  call," 

And  that  's  Wyoming  got  in  line. 

Nevada  had  with  Ora-gone ; 
Said  Mrs.  Sippi :  "  I  declare, 
204 


Uncle  Sam's  Family 

If  Indi-ana  wear  the  flag 

Pray  what  will  pretty  Delaware  ? " 

Old  Massa  Chu  sett  sail  upon, 

The  raging  Maine,  with  steady  hand ; 

The  D.  C.  steered  the  Ship  of  State, 
Till  Arkan-saw  sweet  Mary-land. 

Then  up  Rhode  Island  on  a  bike, 
While  old  Connecti-cut  a  dash  ; 

The  Territories  all  in  coach, 

And  Texas  mustangs  under  lash. 

With  Indian  Territory  yell, 

Said  Ida,  "  Ho  !  you  girls  and  boys, 
Sing  that  New  Mexi-cho-rus  loud  — 

To  shout  when  one  is  111,  annoys  ! " 

What  shall  we  name  the  baby  Guam, 
Said  silver-tongued  Nebraska  ? 

Let  Js  Call-'er-Ada,  said  Vermont, 
Said  Washington,  "  Al-ask-'er." 

Then  Cuba  ate  a  Philippine, 
While  Porto  Rico  made  Salam ; 

They  sang  the  Ar  —  I-zona  played, 
"  Ha-wa-ii  all  ? "  said  Uncle  Sam  ! 


205 


THE   SOLDIER'S    OATH 

T  'LL  suffer  fatigue  and  hunger, 

•*•  I  '11  tramp  in  the  mud  and  the  rain, 

But  never  will  suffer  a  mortal 

To  tear  that  loved  banner  in  twain  ! 

I  '11  suffer  the  wounds  of  the  battle, 
And  down  to  my  grave  bear  the  scars, 
Before  I  will  suffer  a  mortal 
To  pull  down  the  Stripes  and  the  Stars ! 

I  '11  suffer  the  pangs  of  the  dying ! 
The  chains  of  the  captive  I  '11  drag ! 
I  even  will  suffer  dishonor, 
But  not  to  my  dear  country's  flag ! 


206 


THE   BLUE   AND   THE   GRAY 


greatest  armies  fought  ; 
Then  stood  the  world  amazed, 
Forced  to  digest  the  thought  : 
That  we  both  armies  raised. 

Those  quondam  foes  are  friends  ; 

One  flag  the  country  through. 
The  world  now  comprehends 

The  Gray  fights  with  the  Blue. 

So  firm  the  bond  is  tied 
Between  these  men  to-day, 

The  Blue  would  now  divide 
Their  pension  with  the  Gray. 


207 


INDEX 


Arbor  Day 165 

Baby's  Hand 91 

Big  Fish  and  the  Little  Fish,  The     ....  50 

Billy  Idon'know 172 

Blue  and  the  Gray,  The 207 

Buying  a  Doll 83 

Conductor  Sammy      .     . 167 

Cow-Bell,  The '    .     .  108 

Cowboys'  Concert,  The 201 

Crazy  Phil 123 

Dago,  The 170 

Dan  Butterfield 158 

Dandy  Dewey r^* 

Deacon's  Drive,  The T^K 

De  Light  and  De  Satisfied 195 

Doggie 's  Dot  Puppies 178 

Dog  Sale,  The  .     .     .' 151 

Doll-Baby  Town 155 

Do  't  Again  ! 41 

Dot  Good  for  Nodings  Dog 34 

Drummer  Boy  of  the  Rappahannock,  The       .  194 

Every-Day  Dolly,  An 81 

209 


Index 

PACK 

For  a  Boy 76 

Foreigners  on  Santa  Glaus 179 

Frenchman  and  the  Dictionary,  The      .     .     .  133 

Frenchman's  Spider  and  the  Fly,  The  .     .     .  145 

General  Hancock 147 

Girl  That  Winked  Her  Eye,  The 174 

Goin'  A-Fishin' 70 

Gossips,  The 187 

Grandma 32 

Hans'  Little  Baby 37 

He  Would  n't  Tell  His  Ma 176 

Hide-and-Seek 104 

Hobo,  The 153 

How  Hans  Took  Santiago 52 

How  the  Mule  Was  Made 183 

Hushaby  !  Close  You' Eye  ! 19 

I  Can  Lick  Any  Boy  in  the  Block     .     .     .     .  122 

I  Love  Her  Just  Because  I  Do 186 

In  the  Rain 98 

Irish  Charity 63 

I  Would  Not  Shoot 73 

Josiah  and  Symanthy 46 

Just  Dropped  In 96 

Kindergarten  Tot,  The 25 

Lee  at  Appomattox 115 

Lee  to  the  Confederate  Flag 117 

Little  Miss  Study  arid  Little  Miss  Play ...  162 

Man  at  the  Forge,  The 120 

Marble-Cutter's  Chat,  The in 

Mocking-Bird,  The 106 

210 


Index 

PAGE 

Mother  Knows  I  'm  Comin'  Home    ....  77 

No! 43 

Old  Bible,  An no 

Old  Glory 61 

Old  Kentucky 192 

Old  Man  o'  the  Moon 189 

Old  Man's  Dream,  An 57 

On  t'  Other  Side  the  World 68 

Pickett's  Charge 13 

Rastus 87 

Remember  the  Maine 21 

Soldier's  Oath,  The 206 

So  Little  Bill  Said 93 

Southern  Belle,  The 139 

Sparrow,  The 182 

Stonewall  Jackson 141 

Stuttering  Lover,  The     . 163 

Sunshine 185 

Two  Apples 164 

Uncle  Sam  and  Johnny  Bull 103 

Uncle  Sam's  Family 204 

Weavers,  The .100 

Whistling  Boy,  The 28 

Would  n't  You  ?                200 


211 


Old  Ace  and  Other  Poems 

By   FRED    EMERSON    BROOKS 

New  Edition.  Tenth  Thousand 
This  popular  volume,  containing  eighty  poems, 
includes  "Old  Aee,"  "  Uncle  Eph's  Heaven," 
"Sherman's  March,"  "The  Orthod-ox  Team," 
"  Foreign  Views  of  the  Statue,"  *'  Yosemite," 
"  Palestine,"  and  "  Watchin'  the  Sparkin'."  Noth- 
ing in  the  book  is  duplicated  in  "  Pickett's  Charge 
and  Other  Poems." 

"  There  is  in  Brooks'  poems  the  dash  of  the  unex- 
pected, like  a  cavalry  charge."  —  General  Phil  Sheridan. 

"That  is  good,  that  is  good,  —  and  so  original!"  — 
President  McKinley. 

"  Your  poem,  *  Yosemite,'  is  grand  indeed.  You  may 
well  be  proud  of  being  its  author."  —  Sir  Henry  Irving. 

"  With  a  wide  variety  of  theme,  Mr.  Brooks  blends 
humor  and  pathos  in  all  he  writes.  Many  of  his  verses 
have  the  brightness  of  the  California  sunshine  and  the 
sweetness  of  its  flowers.  Brimful  of  humor  as  they  are, 
they  point  some  homely  morals."  —  The  New  York  Ob- 
server. 

"There  is  a  freshness  and  music  and  joyousness  and 
jollity  and  naturalness  in  Fred  Emerson  Brooks'  poems 
that  make  them  charming.  In  the  handsome  volume  the 
reader  can  find  something  for  every  mood  and  condition. 
He  can  shed  tears  or  laugh;  he  can  be  jolly  or  sad."  — 
The  Inter-Ocean^  Chicago. 

"  Brooks  is  a  great  poet  and  a  genius  of  great  ability. 
Humor  and  pathos  abound  throughout  his  poems,  and 
many  partake  of  the  inspiration  of  the  war-drum,  but  he  is 
thoroughly  at  home  in  whatever  strain  of  melody  he 
chooses  to  adopt."  —  The  Atlanta  Constitution. 

Carefully  printed  and  bound  in  an  artistic,  decorated 
cover;  I2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  208  pages.  Price,  $1.25. 
For  sale  by  all  booksellers  or  sent  post-paid  by  the  pub- 
lishers. 


FORBES   &   COMPANY 

P.   O.    BOX    1478  I  P.   O.   BOX   464 

BOSTON,  MASS.ICHICAGO,    ILL. 


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OCT  4 

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MAY  3 


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